


A World Without Pity

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped in an alternate universe, Colonel Samantha Carter sets out to find what became of Jack O’Neill, only to find herself the unwitting pawn in a struggle to save Earth from a totally unexpected enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World Without Pity

**Author's Note:**

> Can you write an AU of an AU? Disappointed in the non-mention of Jack in The Road Not Taken, along with one scene that had me wondering if TPTB were going to do something completely different (they didn’t), I was inspired to write a story where we find out what happened to Jack in that reality. This story starts during The Road Not Taken but diverges radically (one of those forks in the road) into a world and situation that Colonel Samantha Carter could never have imagined. Many thanks to skydiver119 for her help and encouragement and I couldn’t do any of this without the support from my dear friend dannylurks.
> 
> Originally posted July 2008.

**A WORLD WITHOUT PITY**

“Driver.” Sam Carter knocked on the window separating her from the front of the plush limo that sped effortlessly along the almost deserted highway from Cheyenne Mountain into the Springs. 

The window rolled down. “Ma’am?”

Opening the small evening bag she carried, Sam leaned forward and passed him a piece of paper. “I’d like to stop here before we go to the hotel.”

He glanced at it briefly and gave a quick nod, the window rising soundlessly. Sam sat back on the soft leather, not at all surprised when the driver immediately dialed the limo’s car phone; no doubt getting permission to make her requested detour. Sighing quietly, she gazed out the window at the passing scenery and tried to ignore the unease that continued to grow the longer she was in this universe. 

It was her natural inclination to trust and to help these people, who were so similar and yet so different from their counterparts in her universe. She wondered if Daniel and then Doctor Samantha Carter from the SGA all those years ago had felt the same way when faced with their alternate universe experiences. And she wished that there was someone here that she could confide in…someone that she knew without a doubt that she could trust. But none of her current team was available to her and the one person she would have trusted above all others…well, he wasn’t available either.

They’d reached the outskirts of the city and instead of taking the route that would have led them into town, the driver exited onto one of the local highways that—at least in her universe—skirted the city. It was a relatively short drive, the area still mostly undeveloped, though she could see signs of housing developments that had been laid out and then abandoned. One weathered billboard proclaimed the coming of a new subdivision, optimistically called Mountain View Paradise, the weeds and grass that had reclaimed the land a mute testament to the turmoil of the past few years, a turmoil in which she had unwittingly become embroiled.

The limo slowed down and Sam realized they had reached their destination, the driver turned onto the access road, the dry and scraggly landscape giving way to green and well-manicured lawns of the Mountain View Memorial Park. The limo made one more turn, this time through the open gates of the cemetery and slid to a silent stop.

The window rolled down. “Where to ma’am?”

“This is fine,” she told him. Before she could get her door open, he was there, opening it for her. The sun was riding low on the mountains, it was late spring and even though it was evening, there was still plenty of light—and she knew exactly where she was going. “You can wait here,” she instructed the driver, slipping the silky stole that matched her dress over her shoulders. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his reflective sunglasses but she knew he wasn’t pleased, which was too damn bad. But he didn’t follow her, merely leaned back against the side of the limo as she looked around and got her bearings before carefully walking in a northeasterly direction through the grass and neatly laid out headstones.

When it become evident to her that he wasn’t at the SGC—and no one had mentioned him—she had finally worked up the courage to ask Lorne about him. What she hadn’t expected to hear was that he was dead. After that it had been easy. She found his obituary, killed in the line of duty, though the short obituary was strangely lacking in any further details. Finding a layout of the cemetery where he’d been buried had been easy too, though it struck her odd that he wasn’t buried in a military cemetery. 

Sam wasn’t sure what she hoped to accomplish by visiting his grave, evidently both of their lives had taken dramatically different paths in this universe, if his death and her marriage to McKay were any indication. When she’d pressed Lorne for more information about him, he had brushed her off and then she’d been too busy trying to save the planet to wonder why Colonel Jack O’Neill had faded into obscurity. 

The ground was slightly damp and she could feel her high heels sinking through the grass and into the dirt; they were probably getting ruined but she really didn’t care. She also didn’t care if this detour made her late for the President’s little party. Sam smiled mirthlessly, hardly the thoughts the President’s new golden girl should have. She slowed down, if she had read the map of the cemetery correctly, she should be getting close to his grave.

In spite of all her mental preparation and continual reminders that this wasn’t **her** world, Sam’s breath still caught when she saw the headstone; gray granite, it was both simple and elegant. She walked slowly toward it, skirting several other more impressive monuments—and mindful of her long skirt—she carefully knelt down on one knee. Reaching out, she lightly ran her fingers along the simple inscription, just his name, his date of birth and death. There should be more…and then she mentally shook herself. This wasn’t her Jack O’Neill and she needed to remember that, just like this wasn’t her reality. 

Sam slowly rose, brushing at the few strands of grass that clung to her skirt. She didn’t have a watch on, but the deepening shadows and the growing chill in the air told her more time had passed than she’d realized; the old fashioned lampposts along the cemetery’s main drive flickered into life as she retraced her steps. Her taciturn driver was where she had left him and without any comment, he opened the door and she slipped inside; the limo soon speeding back along the highway that would take them into town and her next command performance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Find her and bring her in.” Jack O’Neill, former Air Force colonel and leader of SG1, didn’t miss the look that passed between his second-in-command and Major Lorne. The contrast between the casually dressed and almost unkempt looking Sheppard and the militarily correct Lorne was almost painful—a vivid reminder of what had been lost in the two years since Anubis had attacked Earth and the entire course of the world had changed. 

Jack trusted each man implicitly and while he knew Lorne would accept his decision without question, Sheppard wouldn’t be as…agreeable. 

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Sheppard questioned from where he lounged on the sagging sofa that ran along the far wall of Jack’s ‘office’. 

Jack sat back in the creaking executive chair at his old wooden desk, the light from the dim overhead bulb placing Sheppard’s face in shadows while it cast Lorne’s mildly skeptical look into stark relief. “She can help us.”

“What makes you think she’ll help us when Major Carter wouldn’t?” Sheppard slowly sat up, his face emerging from the shadows. Beneath the shaggy hair and still reddened scar that ran down the side of his face and wasn’t completely hidden by his beard, Jack could see the curiosity—and the contempt. 

“She’s different,” Lorne said into the suddenly ominous silence that filled the bunker.

Jack ignored Lorne and looked at Sheppard. “You saw the video.” Jack gestured toward the sophisticated computer system that took up one whole corner of the room, looking surprisingly out of place in the utilitarian room. The security disc Lorne had smuggled out of the SGC had restarted and they could all see the look of complete horror on Colonel Carter’s face when the President handed her the glass of whiskey and his eyes glowed in that oh-so-familiar fashion before all pandemonium broke loose on the Prometheus. “She had no clue about Landry.” 

Sheppard nodded—reluctantly and Jack continued. “If this alternate universe stuff is to be believed, then maybe things went down differently for them. She may know things that can help us. If all the media hype is true, if she really did save us with her disappearing planet trick, then she’s got as many smarts, maybe even more, than our Carter. Besides,” Jack added, unable to forget the images of the Secret Service agents firing their weapons as she ran, “she may be injured. And if they find her before we do, you know what they’ll do to her.”

“You know,” Sheppard asked, clearly still skeptical, “what I don’t get is why didn’t she ‘sense’ him earlier?” 

It was a reasonable question and one Jack hadn’t thought of—one of the many reasons he valued Sheppard. “Maybe that whole Jolinar thing didn’t happen in her universe.” Sheppard continued to look skeptical.

Lorne shrugged as if the answer were obvious. “They kept her drugged.”

One of Sheppard’s eyebrows shot up. “Drugged?”

“Not enough to totally impair her, but enough to keep her compliant.” 

“Seems odd,” Sheppard commented. “Why even take the risk of letting her get close enough to Landry?”

“Because he’s a Goa’uld and his snake wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to gloat.” If there was one thing Jack knew, it was the Goa’uld and if they had any weakness, it was their arrogance. “And he’d want her to know exactly what was happening before they snaked her.”

“You don’t know that’s what they had planned,” Sheppard protested.

Jack turned on the younger man, his expression grim. “It’s the only way they’d be able to control her. Like before.” He scrubbed his hand wearily over his face, “Just like before,” he murmured. 

Pushing back from his desk, Jack slowly stood, favoring his bad leg. He could have all the regrets he wanted regarding Carter later, but right now he had to find her. “She just might have a sub dermal transponder.” Jack looked at Lorne. “Get Zelenka started on it and then you’d better get back to the SGC before anyone becomes suspicious. If you hear anything about her, let Sheppard know.” Lorne nodded and left, leaving the two men alone. 

“We’re only asking for trouble, Jack, if we bring her in.” 

Limping over to the computer console, Jack paused the video that still played—this time the one of the initial press conference where Landry had made Major Carter a national hero. He knew Sheppard was right, they’d worked hard and everyone had made enormous sacrifices and if he was wrong about her, he was not only risking his life but the lives of everyone else in their movement. 

“Maybe.” Jack looked away from the monitor; no matter what Sheppard might think, his reasons for wanting her weren’t totally selfish. “We haven’t made any significant progress in months, we need her.”

“Then we’ll find her.” Sheppard said simply. Standing up, Sheppard joined Jack at the computer console. “Where are you Colonel Carter?” John murmured softly.

“She’s on the run and she may be injured,” Jack said. “She’ll go to the one place where she’ll feel safe.”

Sheppard snorted, a look of grim amusement on his face. “To McKay?”

The reminder of her ex-husband should have stung, but for some reason it didn’t hurt as much now. Jack shook his head, it might be a long shot…he quickly scribbled an address on a scrap of paper. “She’ll go home.” He handed the paper to Sheppard who glanced at it briefly before stuffing in his pocket. “Make sure you find her before they do.” 

“Yes, sir.” Sheppard drawled with just enough insolence to reassure Jack.

Sheppard left without another word and Jack found his eyes drawn back to the monitor. Sam looked uncomfortable standing next to Landry and so beautiful, it made his heart ache. He reached out, his index finger lightly trailing over her figure on the monitor; she looked softer somehow and more innocent than he ever remembered. But then, he forcibly reminded himself, this was not his Samantha Carter. His Samantha Carter was dead, killed in whatever freak accident had brought Colonel Carter into this reality. Jack tried to dredge up some sadness—anything—at the thought of her death, but all he felt was relief; relief that the nightmare of the past three years was over for her.

Shutting the monitor down, Jack walked slowly back to his desk. Even though he had long accepted the role he had in fighting for Earth’s freedom, it still grated that he couldn’t be the one out looking for her, but his people were good and they would find her. Jack stared blindly at the bleak walls of his command center; Sheppard was right to be concerned, he was walking a fine line when it came to his feelings for Samantha Carter and his reasons for wanting her found. 

Jack fished under the tattered green blotter on his desk, slipping the photo from its hiding place. He looked at the faces smiling back at him, barely able to recognize himself in the carefree and happy man with his arm around the smiling blonde woman. That part of his past seemed a lifetime ago and he vowed no matter what the cost, this time he wouldn’t leave her behind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Find her!” Landry bellowed, not bothering to disguise his voice. Not that it mattered on board the Prometheus; the crew had been handpicked and knew exactly who they were serving, which made her escape all that more annoying. He was supposed to be surrounded by the best and somehow that woman had managed to subdue his body guards and his secret service agents, making her escape. Nervous guards and crew scurried around, doing what Landry wasn’t sure, because she sure as hell wasn’t on his ship anymore. 

“Charles!”

His Chief of Staff materialized at his side, looking completely cool and unruffled. “Sir?”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” 

“She’s injured, she won’t get far.” Charles crossed to the credenza and calmly picked up the silver tongs next to the ice bucket and placed two ice cubes into a cut glass tumbler before pouring a healthy shot of scotch over them and handing it to him. “She has no place to go.” 

Landry took the glass and slammed it down on the desk, the amber liquid sloshing precariously close to the rim. “She shouldn’t have gotten off this damn ship!”

Charles’ calm demeanor never wavered. “Her transport coordinates are being downloaded as we speak,” he replied. “We’ll have her back by morning.”

“We shouldn’t have to get her back at all,” Landry snarled. He wanted to vent his rage on someone or something and he vowed once they got her back, she would be appropriately punished for her escape. “Find her,” he snapped at Charles, dismissing the man with a curt wave of his hand.

Landry swiveled in his soft leather chair and looked out the window of his office, the stars glowed brightly in the darkness of space, the crescent that was Earth just visible on the horizon. He took a swallow of the scotch, savoring the sharp bite as it traveled down his gullet. Life had been good for him so far on this planet and now that the threat of the Ori was at least temporarily solved, he could continue his goal of world domination. His reflection in the window smiled back wryly at him. Granted, his life wasn’t as grand as it could be, but there were enough fringe benefits to keep him satisfied until he could assume his right place with the System Lords. 

In the Goa’uld scheme of things, domination of a backwater planet like Earth was hardly a goal to which a System Lord would normally aspire. However, since he was not yet a System Lord, it didn’t worry him unduly and the galaxy in general seemed to be a very unsafe place these days for everyone. So it suited him to wait out the galactic dramatics safe on Earth and in spite of the Ori threat, it had been a cozy set-up, until Colonel Samantha Carter and blundered into his domain and not only killed his lead scientist but his lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam slipped deeper into the shadows of the alleyway, her heart still racing and her breathing only just starting to slow down. She leaned back against the cold brick wall of closest building and then jerked away, letting out a hiss of pain. The stinging and burning in her shoulder told her she hadn’t been as lucky as she’d thought in her escape from the Prometheus. Carefully rotating her shoulder, she tried to assess the extent of injury and winced when the burning pain traveled down her arm, making her fingers tingle. She’d heard gun shots, the tell-tale whine of zat’n’ktel’s and even a staff weapon or two as she’d scrambled her way to the transport controls and she realized it must’ve happened in those few unprotected moments before she’d disappeared.

Probing cautiously with her fingers, her breath caught again when they skimmed ragged and torn flesh. She couldn’t feel any foreign objects, but her hand came away sticky with blood and now that she’d calmed down a bit, she was able to distinguish the smell of charred flesh mixed in with the other noxious odors in the alley. Nausea suddenly raced through her and she quickly leant forward, resting her butt against the brick wall and lowering her head to her knees. The smell of her burned skin, old urine and rotting garbage was just as strong, but after several deep breaths through her mouth, she felt the nausea subside.

Straightening slowly, she ignored the pain in her shoulder and took stock of her surroundings. Her brief glimpse of the street before she’d scurried into the alley had told her she was in a rather run-down business area of what she hoped was Colorado Springs. She hadn’t had time to completely reset the coordinates, however the slight variation she’d managed to program into the transporter should have set her down within a thirty mile radius of the SGC. And thankfully, she wasn’t in the mountains somewhere.

Parallel universes and alternate realities aside, it seemed incomprehensible to her that Landry was a Goa’uld. The president of the United States was an alien. She wondered why she hadn’t sensed the symbiote…either it didn’t have any naquadah or they had somehow disguised it, dulled her senses, maybe drugged her…. She supposed any, or all, were a possibility; she hadn’t felt drugged but this was a different world, she just hadn’t imagined **how** different. 

But right now she didn’t have time to worry about how a Goa’uld had managed to assume control of the most powerful country on Earth; she needed to find some place safe to hide, where she could tend her wound and figure out her options. The longer she lingered here, the sooner they could find her—she knew it wouldn’t take them long to figure out where she had transported.

Of course, she acknowledged with a grimace, beyond her injury, she wasn’t exactly dressed inconspicuously. There was a distinct chill in the air as well and her stole was at the hotel. Sam looked down and sighed, running a hand along the expensive material of her gown. The dress was seriously beautiful, but she felt overexposed and underdressed, so it was with some regret that she leaned down and yanked experimentally on the hem. It hurt her shoulder like hell, but several hard tugs later, she had split one of the side seams and ripped off the lower third of her evening gown. Wrapping the torn segment around her shoulders like a shawl, and hopefully covering her injury, she left the alley and stepped cautiously out onto the sidewalk.

Keeping close to the buildings and the shadows, Sam walked down the street, hoping to catch sight of a street sign so she could orient herself. There was a modest amount of foot traffic and some cars, and thankfully no one seemed to be paying her any attention. Reaching an intersection, Sam felt a rush of relief when she recognized the street names. She knew where she was, and while it would be a long hike injured and in heels, she plotted out a route that would bypass the major streets and that would eventually take her to the relative safety of ‘her’ neighborhood. It was a risk, but she would feel safer and more in control in an area she knew and just maybe hiding in plain sight would work to her advantage. 

Sam waited uneasily for the light to change, ignoring the openly hostile looks from two provocatively dressed women loitering by a row of newspaper machines. Thankfully the light changed before Sam had to reassure them she wasn’t infringing on their turf and pulling her faux shawl a little closer, she hurried across the street. The street was noticeably quieter and after only one block she had left the relatively brighter lights of the seedy business district and entered a run-down older neighborhood. 

The streetlights were few and far between, but Sam didn’t care. The pain in her shoulder had diminished to a dull throb with only the occasional shooting pain down her arm now.   
She settled into as brisk walk as she could manage in heels, hoping that her feet—and her shoulder—held out until she reached her goal. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_“I have her.”_

Zelenka’s voice sounded in John’s earpiece just as he spotted their target. Tapping on his radio he murmured, “So do I.” He’d been working a search grid around the address O’Neill had given him and as soon as he’d spotted the slender figure of a woman walking slowly about a block away from his current location, he’d shut off the lights of the black panel van and kept her carefully in his sights.

“Any other interested parties around?” John asked. He’d stuck his forged ‘after hours’ permit on the windshield, but if he was pulled over, it wouldn’t pass close scrutiny. 

_“All the usual channels are quiet.”_

So either they weren’t broadcasting their faux pas or they were keeping it very, very quiet. Either way, this was his window. “Keep me posted,” he advised Zelenka, confident that the wily Czech was monitoring all the channels for any indication of unusual activity.

The battered van moved silently down the street, the powerful engine surprisingly quiet and efficient for such a decrepit looking vehicle, which was exactly how John wanted it. He worked hard at not being noticed, they all worked hard at not being noticed, which was one of the many reasons he had doubts regarding the wisdom of bringing her in, especially since she was so recognizable. But…he trusted the Colonel—and whatever plan he had brewing in that tactician’s brain of his.

John let the van slowly drift along behind her, running various scenarios for acquiring her without bringing any undue attention. This part of the city was mostly residential and given that it was now past the national curfew there shouldn’t be any other people out. Of course, the presence of the van out after curfew—even with a permit—would also attract attention, which meant he really needed to act soon. 

Turning his attention back to his target, John frowned; now that he was closer he could see that she was limping slightly, the long gown he remembered from the video was considerably shorter, with what he assumed to be the missing material wrapped around her shoulders. And by the way she held her left arm against her body, he would hazard that the General was right—she had been injured.

Swinging into action, John quickly turned the van down the next side street and circled the block, rolling the van to a silent stop at the next intersection on her path. John grabbed the black beanie on the passenger seat and pulled it down over his head. There was hardly any moon and the only streetlight at the intersection flickered dimly. Leaving the van running, John quietly opened the door and slipped out, moving to a relatively sheltered position at the rear of the van where he could remain hidden and still watch her. 

At a nearby house a dog suddenly barked, the shrill noise cutting through the quiet air. She stopped, the streetlight flickered bright for a moment and John saw the pain, fear and determination on her face. She looked exhausted and he felt a surge of pity for her, but he quickly squelched it, he knew better than to underestimate her capabilities. She had single-handedly escaped from a Goa’uld dominated ship. 

John slipped his hand into the pocket of his oversized jacket, his fingers curling around the zat. He hated to use it on her, but maybe it would be the most efficient—and kindest—way to bring her in. The dog finally stopped barking and with a quick look around, she started walking again. John waited until she drew abreast of the van and then he soundlessly crept up the far side of the vehicle.

“Colonel Carter,” he hissed softly.

She stopped again, looking around wildly. He stepped out of the shadows behind the van and she immediately turned on him, her body twirling and one of her feet flying out in a deadly kick. But he was prepared and while she moved fast, he moved faster and easily evaded her attack. The dog had started barking again and this time a woman’s voice loudly admonished the excited animal, the porch light of the house on the corner flaring on. With the extra light, he could see she was breathing hard and moving slowly, but she still managed to whirl, prepared to attack again.

John muttered, “Screw it,” and drew out the zat, firing once; the blue energy discharge crackled between them and then enveloped her body. The shock and fear on her face was painful to see and he wished he could reassure her, but the most he could do now was to catch her limp body even as the last stray energy bolt flickered out and ignore the mild tingle that ran through him.

“Sorry about that Colonel,” he apologized to the unconscious woman, hefting her over his shoulder and quickly carrying her to the back of the van. The door opened without a squeak and he carefully laid her down on the pile of blankets there, hastily pulling one over her. Closing the doors he quickly rounded the van and got into the driver’s seat, looking around anxiously. 

His spidey sense was going crazy. He saw the front door of the barking dog house open slightly and the pale oval of a face peer out, searching the night. Resisting the urge to gun the motor and peel out, he calmly put the van into gear and drove sedately through the empty intersection, only then pressing down on the gas and speeding out of the quiet neighborhood and to the maze of back roads that would take him to their base.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bed was hard and she could feel the crinkle of plastic under the rough sheets when she moved—that, along with the scarily reassuring beep of a heart monitor told Sam she was in the infirmary. Her brain was fuzzy and her shoulder didn’t hurt, which meant the drugs were doing their job. Her shoulder—suddenly panicked, Sam forced her brain to full consciousness and she struggled to sit up, prepared to flee.

A gentle hand on her shoulder restrained her. “Hey there, Sam. Its okay, honey. It’s okay.”

Sam’s eyes flew open in increased confusion. Compassionate brown eyes and the tender smile of Doctor Janet Fraiser swam in front of her. “Janet?” she croaked.

“Who else would it be?” the woman chuckled, but then a shadow passed over her face. “Unless in this alternate universe of yours….” Sam’s eyes closed on a wave of pain—but not from her physical injuries. 

“Never mind,” Janet said briskly, once more the efficient doctor. “I don’t think I want to know. But now that you’re awake, let me check your shoulder.” 

With the doctor’s help, Sam sat up and leaned forward, clutching the soft and faded hospital gown to her chest when Fraiser undid the top tie. Since she was upright, Sam took the opportunity to carefully study her surroundings. The small room had the air of an old-time hospital room or even a cell; there was her bed, a simple night stand and a chair…and that was about it for the plain furnishings. The walls were cinder block with the only window on the door to the room—which was currently open, but there was no activity in the hall outside, just more cinder block painted a dull gray. 

“You were lucky,” Fraiser said. Sam didn’t feel so lucky and she braced herself when she felt the doctor prodding at her shoulder and back but she didn’t feel any pain—or any big, bulky dressing either. Fraiser continued, “We happened across some human growth factor last week and with this dermal dressing, you’ll be good as new in forty-eight hours.” 

The whole alternate universe thing kept getting more and more bizarre; Sam felt like she had fallen through the proverbial rabbit hole and knew she wouldn’t be ‘good as new’ until she was home. “That’s good,” was all she said though, when she felt Fraiser retie her gown. 

“Lie back down, honey.” Janet’s hand was gentle on her uninjured shoulder, urging her back down onto the mattress. “Even with the dermal dressing, you’re still in no condition to be up and about yet.”

“Where am I, Janet?” Sam tried vainly to focus her racing thoughts, trying to sense the presence of a symbiote in the doctor, but she couldn’t. She badly wanted to trust the doctor, but after her experiences with Landry, she didn’t know who she could trust.

“Some place safe,” Fraiser said briskly, not meeting her eyes. “But right now you still need to rest.” She pulled a syringe out of her pocket and uncapped the needle, sticking it into one of the injection ports on her IV. 

“Please Janet, just tell me.” Sam felt the drug start to act almost immediately and she struggled to keep her eyes open, Janet’s face swimming in front of her.

“Just rest,” Janet said, her touch cool as she brushed her bangs back off her forehead. 

The doctor’s compassionate smile faded fuzzily away and even when Sam thought she saw the doctor’s eyes glow briefly, she didn’t have the strength to fight the drug, instead closing her eyes and drifting into a troubled sleep where she dreamed of running from Landry’s glowing eyes and straight into Jack O’Neill’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Doctor Janet Fraiser was nobody’s fool and when John Sheppard had carried the unconscious Samantha Carter into the suite of rooms that made up her infirmary, she hadn’t batted an eye, merely tended to her patient. She had seen the video feeds and heard the rumors that had spread through the very efficient gossip mill in their little base. Speculation had run rampant as to the Colonel’s motives and while no one—except maybe herself or Sheppard—would dare question him to his face, she had remained quiet. 

She had worked with Jack O’Neill long enough to trust his instincts, so she didn’t question the painfully obvious way he avoided the only patient currently occupying the isolation room. But of course, he didn’t need to actually visit to keep an eye on their patient. Janet glanced at the closed circuit television monitor on the wall across from her desk—a view she knew the Colonel also had from his office. 

The picture was grainy, but Janet could still see the slight frown on the sleeping woman’s face when she shifted restlessly in her drug induced sleep. Janet would bet her medical license, well…if she still had one and if Landry hadn’t branded her as a collaborator, that her patient wasn’t in pain, at least not the physical kind. If you knew Samantha Carter well, and she did, it would be immediately obvious that this woman was not the Sam Carter who had betrayed all of them almost three years ago now.

Janet put her pen down, her chair creaking as she sat back and gazed at the monitor, trying to reconcile this stranger with the woman that had been her friend and eventually her betrayer. It wasn’t everyday that your best friend tried to kill you. She sighed softly, so much had changed—except for one thing, they were still waging war against the Goa’uld. 

“Doc?” Sheppard stood in the open door, hands in his pockets, the harsh fluorescent light unkind to his still handsome face. She’d offered more than once to heal the scar, but he continued to refuse, and not for the first time she wondered what he saw when he looked in the mirror that wouldn’t allow him to let it go. 

“He wants to see you.”

Not surprised at the summons, Janet stood, glancing briefly at the monitor which reassured her that her patient still slept. Sheppard didn’t look at the monitor, merely stepped aside, following her as she walked through the quiet underground labyrinth that led to the heart of the complex and the man who controlled it all.

Sheppard guided her to the Colonel’s office when she would have gone on to their briefing room and when she stepped into his command center, she used the few brief moments it took for her to sit and Sheppard to sprawl in his customary position on the sagging couch in the room to study him. And what she saw sent off all her internal alarms. While there was still an air of weariness around him that betrayed the worry and burden he carried for all of them, there was a subtle spark in his eyes that had been missing since the disastrous results of Anubis’ attack on Earth and his ignominious return from stasis in Antarctica. 

She frowned slightly and glanced over at Sheppard. The man didn’t say anything, but the slight shrug and wry look in his eyes told her that she wasn’t the only one who had noticed—and was concerned—by this change in the Colonel.

“Report.”

“She’s not seriously injured,” Janet replied. “The staff weapon burn on her shoulder is all but healed. I also removed her dermal transponder, so they won’t be able to track her that way. But it’s not her physical condition that has me worried. She’s been through—”

“I think what our fearless leader really wants to know,” Sheppard interrupted, “is whether our guest is really who she says she is.”

Janet raised an eyebrow, but easily shifted gears. “She’s human; her DNA matches that of what is on file for Major Samantha Carter. The ultrasound showed she doesn’t carry a symbiote, but she does have traces of naquadah in her blood and the protein marker that indicates at one point in time she was blended with a Goa’uld—probably Jolinar.” Janet gave Sheppard a pointed look. “She is Samantha Carter.”

O’Neill finally spoke. “You’re keeping her sedated?”

“I deemed it the wisest choice under the circumstances.”

“Let her wake up,” O’Neill said with the merest flicker of a glance towards the monitor showing Samantha Carter asleep in the narrow infirmary bed. “And then bring her to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Janet replied. She got to her feet, recognizing the dismissal in his tone. She got as far as the doorway before she stopped and turned back. “Jack?” He looked up at her and frowned; it wasn’t often that she called him by his name, but this occasion seemed to warrant the familiarity. “She really isn’t our Sam.”

A look of such pure grief flashed briefly in his eyes that Janet was sorry she had spoken, but then it was gone and his expression was once more that of the grim determination that had carried them this far. “I know, Doc,” he said softly. “I know.” 

She nodded and as she left, Sheppard rose to his feet and followed her out of the office. To her annoyance, he followed her back through the hallways without saying a word and when they reached the infirmary, she stopped short and turned to confront him. “Was there something you wanted to say to me, Major?” 

He grinned at her sharp tone, his smile turning lazy. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, doc,” he drawled. “We’re on the same side here.” She let him take her arm and draw her into her office. “I want the same thing you want—I don’t want him hurt again by that woman.”

Janet sighed. She should have known Sheppard would have seen the same signs she had and he wasn’t anybody’s fool, no matter how casual he appeared. “We know nothing about this Samantha Carter.”

“My point exactly, doc. She could by a lying, cheating bitch just like our own dearly departed Major.” 

“She did save the planet,” Janet protested.

Sheppard laughed. “And she saved her own ass in the process.”

“He won’t make the same mistake again,” Janet added, trying to convince herself and Sheppard.

Sheppard smiled grimly. “You saw it in his eyes, doc. Whether she belongs in our universe or not, she’s still Samantha Carter and he’s still in love with her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Sam woke, her head felt clearer and the momentary confusion she felt upon waking in the stark room faded rapidly. She was surprised to find she was hungry and thirsty—but over-riding everything else was her need to go to the bathroom. Fumbling with the side rail on the bed, she managed to lower it and grabbing her IV pole, she staggered to the small door taking up most of one wall that she really hoped was the bathroom. Pushing the door open, she was relieved to find she was right. 

Fighting the IV tubing and her own weakness, she managed to use the facilities. Carefully washing her hands and avoiding the IV in the back of her hand, she took a cautious look into the tiny mirror over the sink. On the bright side, she looked better than she felt, though her hair was all flat from lying in bed for so long. Tugging on the neckline of her gown, she tried to get a look at her injured shoulder, but all she managed to do was to get herself dizzy. Sitting abruptly back down on the toilet, she dropped her head down to her knees and took deep breaths.

There was a tentative rap on the closed bathroom door and a female voice she didn’t recognize asked, “Colonel Carter?”

“It’s okay,” Sam answered.

The door opened and a dark-haired woman wearing olive drab fatigues, her corn-row plaited hair pulled back into a loose pony tail and her brown eyes full of concern, stepped into the room. “Doctor Fraiser is going to be none too pleased to hear you got out of bed.” Sam went for optimism and decided that the stranger was some kind of nurse or aide and accepted the hand the woman gave her, helping back into her tiny room. 

Once she was sitting back in her bed, the woman pulled a pair of medical gloves out of her pocket and deftly removed the IV from her hand. “There,” she said, setting the contraption aside. “It’ll be easier for you to eat your breakfast now.” She then proceeded to position a rickety over-bed table within reach and lifted the lid off the tray sitting there. Cream of Wheat, wheat toast, a couple packets of strawberry jam, apple juice, along with a small pot of hot water, tea bag and mug waited for her. The plain fare smelled surprisingly good and Sam picked up the apple juice, taking a cautious sip.

“My name’s Jordan,” the woman said by way of introduction, not indicating whether it was her first or last name. “Once you’ve finished your breakfast, I’ll be back with some clothing for you.”

“What happens after that?” Sam asked curiously, spreading the jam on the toast.

Jordan smiled. “You’ll see the Colonel, of course.” 

Before Sam could ask her which ‘colonel’ she was going to see, Jordan was gone, taking the intravenous bag and tubing with her. Sam chewed thoughtfully on her toast. She didn’t have a clear memory of what had happened to her the night before, but she had a vague memory of seeing John Sheppard—and him shooting her with a zat. Which didn’t make any sense, but then not much had made sense in this crazy world since her flight from the Prometheus. It didn’t take her long to finish her breakfast, and in the short time it took, she wasn’t any closer to figuring out what was going on than she had been when she’d woken up and seen Janet Fraiser gazing down at her.

True to her word, Jordan turned up with an armful of olive drab fatigues topped with a highly polished pair of combat boots, just as Sam took the last swallow of her tea. “You must be psychic,” Sam commented.

“I wish,” Jordan chuckled, setting the clothing down on the small bedside stand. “Got you on the CCTV,” she said, jerking her head back towards the front door. 

“Oh,” Sam said, feeling incredibly stupid. She smiled mirthlessly, of course they were watching her, everyone was watching her. 

“Don’t worry about that,” Jordan said, her eyes full of unexpected compassion when she moved the empty tray aside. “It’s only for the infirmary staff. I’m going to check your dressing now and then you can change.” It didn’t take her long to check the dressing, pronouncing in a satisfied voice that ‘everything looked good’. Sam held the loosened gown up against her chest and wondered what ‘good’ meant, but at least her shoulder didn’t hurt anymore. 

Once Jordan was finished checking her injury, she picked up the breakfast tray. “You change into those clothes now,” she said, backing towards the door. “There’ll be someone along shortly to take you to the Colonel.”

“Which colonel?” Sam asked. But Jordan was already gone, the door thudding shut behind her. Not sure how long ‘shortly’ would be, Sam slipped into the small bathroom and washed up as best she could with just a washcloth, soap and water. It was while she was washing up that she noticed the small flesh-colored dressing on the inner side of her left arm. Carefully prodding it with her finger, she couldn’t feel anything. So, they had known—or guessed—she’d have a dermal transponder and had evidently removed it. She wondered if that was how they had found her so fast. 

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any answers in the bathroom, Sam finished getting cleaned up, brushing her teeth with the new toothbrush and toothpaste she’d discovered in the medicine cabinet. Leery of the camera now, she changed into the fatigues in the bathroom, pleased and a mildly alarmed that they fit perfectly—right down to the boots. She couldn’t find a comb, so she ran her fingers through her hair, combing it into place. 

When she couldn’t linger in the bathroom any longer, Sam went back into the other room, studiously ignoring the camera. She tried the door, but found it locked, so she sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Less than five minutes later, the door opened and a tall, dark-haired man stood there.

“It was you!” Sam exclaimed, standing up.

“Major John Sheppard, at your service, ma’am.” 

He stepped into the room, a wry smile on his face, and Sam saw him clearly for the first time. It was Sheppard, but not the man she remembered from their brief meetings at the SGC. He looked harder…tougher—not to mention the scar and the scruffy beard. Evidently the same military rules and regulations didn’t apply to wherever they were, or maybe they just didn’t apply to him.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

His calm expression never wavered but there was a coolness in his eyes that unsettled her. “All in good time, Colonel, all in good time.” 

Sam wasn’t sure why she was being so obstinate now, but she stood her ground. “I’m not going anywhere until I have some answers.”

The chill in his eyes became absolutely frigid and he took several steps to her, until they were practically nose-to-nose. “You’re not in a position to make any demands, Colonel Carter. Your presence here has consequences you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“So why bring me here?”

Sheppard stepped back but didn’t break eye contact with her. “If you want answers, then you’ll have to come with me.” He turned and walked away from her, stopping at the door and looking back. “Just don’t expect to like everything you hear.”

His whole attitude made her seethe inside; she wanted nothing more than to let him walk out that door and slam it shut behind him. But…she also wanted those answers and as long as she was virtually a prisoner in her little hospital room, at least according to Sheppard, she wouldn’t get any. Schooling her expression to neutral she followed Sheppard out the door, not at all surprised when a vaguely familiar looking airman, for lack of a better word, fell into step behind her. 

The corridors seemed endless and all looked the same. Occasionally they would pass a room where she could see people working, or hear voices through partially open doors, but they didn’t pass anyone in the hallways and eventually Sheppard stopped in front of an open doorway, stood back and gestured for her to enter.

The room was the biggest one she’d seen so far, with paneled walls—still no windows—and carpet. A large oblong wooden table sat in the middle of the room and it reminded her so much of the briefing table at the SGC that she felt a fleeting rush of nostalgia. There were two people already in the room, sitting at the far end of the table. Janet Fraiser, her hair pulled back and wearing a white lab coat, smiled at her. Sam gave her a tentative smile in return and then looked at the second person, sitting at the head of the table at Janet’s left.

Sam actually felt the blood drain out of her head; the room started to spin and her vision grew blurry. “Jack?” she mumbled, forcing his name out through lips that didn’t want to obey her. Reaching unsteadily for a chair she was curiously grateful when she felt Sheppard’s strong hands take hold of her shoulders and ease her down into the nearest chair. His hand was warm on the back of her neck when he pushed her head down between her knees.

“Take deep breaths,” he commanded.

His voice sounded like it came from a distance, but she did as he instructed, taking deep breaths and gradually the room stopped spinning. She was vaguely away of voices talking over her head and she thought she heard Janet say angrily, “Well, I hope you’re happy now.” But then the doctor was kneeling at her side, fingers reaching for her pulse and giving her an encouraging smile, so Sam wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“How do you feel, honey?”

Sam slowly lifted her head and saw she was sitting directly opposite of the O’Neill, his expression stony as he looked at her. “Just…surprised, Janet.”

Fraiser snorted. “That’s our Colonel, just full of surprises.”

Sheppard even looked slightly sympathetic. “It would appear that the story of his death has been greatly exaggerated.”

“So it seems.” Sam’s head was still spinning, but now it was because of the man sitting at the head of the table. She didn’t understand any of it, he was supposed to be dead—she’d seen his grave, for crying out loud. Yet here he was and apparently he was this ‘colonel’ that everyone had been referring to, the colonel who ran the operation, whatever it was. He looked older, more tired than she had ever seen him and he was still a colonel. Whatever had happened to him here in this universe hadn’t been good. Her unease with the whole situation made her wonder if maybe she hadn’t been better off with Landry when she suddenly sensed a presence that made her blood run cold.

“She’s a Goa’uld!” Sam shouted, pushing away from Janet and knocking the chair over in her haste to get as far away from the doctor as she could. 

“Whoa, whoa, there, take it easy, Colonel.” Sheppard took up a position between her and Fraiser, like he was protecting the doctor. “There’s nothing to get all worked up about.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Sam?” 

That oh-so-familiar voice sent a shiver down her spine and she had no choice but to look at him. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to worry about Fraiser.” He had half risen out of his chair, but sat back down when he had her attention. He sounded sincere and she desperately wanted to believe him, but it was all getting to be a little too much for her, first Landry and now Fraiser?

“Sir—”

“Sam.” O’Neill indicated the chair to his right. “Come sit down and I promise you, I’ll explain everything.”

Fraiser, a slight look of dismay on her face, stood across the table from her and Sheppard remained poised between her and the door—no doubt to prevent her from running away. Not that she could get very far. Sam looked back at Jack, desperately searching for some sign or acknowledgement from him when she suddenly realized she’d had it. He’d called her Sam, not Carter or Colonel or even Major. 

Pulling herself together, Sam walked to the head of the table and sat down next to him, just like she had done practically everyday for seven years. A slight smile lightened his face momentarily and Sam felt its warmth all the way to her toes until she remembered he was supposed to be dead and he’d literally kidnapped her.

“What the hell is going on—sir?” Sam saw his lips twitch at the anger in her voice and the belated ‘sir’. His apparent amusement at her expense only served to annoy her more and she continued to glare at him. She searched his face in vain, but other than the momentary almost smile, his face betrayed nothing of his emotions, his dark eyes were as remote as the rest of his expression. She followed his gaze when he looked around the table; Sheppard had taken a seat at the opposite end of the table and Fraiser—or whoever she was—remained there as well; both of them watching their interchange with varying degrees of amusement and concern.

When he finally looked back at her, he merely said, “Doctor?”

Sam shifted in her chair and looked down the table at Janet Fraiser, who gracefully inclined her head and when she lifted her face, her eyes glowed briefly. “I am Tok’ra,” she stated simply, her voice carrying the typical reverberation of a symbiote speaking through its host. 

“Tok’ra?” While that was certainly a much more palatable explanation than the alternative, Sam found she wasn’t as comforted as she would like.

Fraiser’s eyes flicked from her to the Colonel. “Go ahead,” he directed.

“I am Selmak.”

“Selmak?” Sam gasped, looking to the Colonel for confirmation.

“Your father—”

“Just to keep the record straight,” Sheppard interrupted. “Our Jacob Carter wasn’t this Samantha Carter’s father.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed at the rebuke but Sam found the other man’s interruption a welcome reminder that she had to remember who she was and where she was.

“Of course, Major Sheppard is right,” Selmak answered into the tense silence. “I am sorry, Samantha. We do not know the details from your universe, but in this reality Jacob Carter died from injuries he received during an explosion at the SGC’s Alpha Site nearly three years ago.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Was the attack engineered by Anubis using his super soldiers?”  
When Selmak nodded in agreement, Sam continued. “The same thing happened in my reality, but my father wasn’t killed, just injured.” She didn’t add that she had almost died, what happened in her reality didn’t really matter here. “If you don’t mind me being blunt,” she said to Selmak, “how did you end up blending with Doctor Fraiser?”

With a slight dip of her head, Fraiser spoke next. “Jacob didn’t die instantly, we were able to get him back to the SGC and place him on life support. With Selmak’s help, we kept his body alive…” her voice trailed off and Selmak took over.

“There was a growing rift between the Tau’ri and Tok’ra at this time and with Jacob injured and unable to communicate, the personnel at the SGC were unable to contact the Tok’ra to find a suitable host.”

Sam suddenly realized what had happened. “It was right after that happened that SG-13 was ambushed.” She looked at O’Neill. “You were injured.” He nodded and then she looked back down the table at Janet. “And you were…killed.”

“That is correct,” Selmak stated, before Janet once more spoke.

“I was mortally wounded, but Daniel and the med team managed to get me back through the gate to the SGC. You were the one who actually suggested the blending.” Janet paused, looking uncomfortable. “Well, our Samantha Carter.”

“But what happened? Why did you stay on Earth?”

Jack spoke, his voice flat and unemotional. “The SGC was under investigation at the time and after the fall-out of that rescue mission, Hammond was basically stripped of all his power.”

Sheppard was right, she didn’t like what she was hearing. It all seemed too incredible, like a nightmare that never ended.

“My blending was kept a secret—only a handful of people knew. Janet Fraiser recovered miraculously from her injuries and Jacob Carter, along with his symbiote, died quietly.”

With each revelation, Sam’s confusion increased, so she focused on the pivotal person that seemed to be the cause of all this universe’s problems. “But what about General Landry? How did he become the president and a Goa’uld?”

“Do you want the long or short version?” Sheppard asked. 

Before she could answer though, a young man who didn’t look old enough to be wearing olive drab fatigues stepped into the room. “Sir,” he said, looking at the Colonel. “You’re needed in the communications room.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll be right there, Dawes.” 

The man nodded and left and Sam watched, her heart sinking when Jack stood up. “Sheppard, why don’t you give Colonel Carter a tour of our facility—” When Fraiser cleared her voice, he smiled slightly. “If the Doctor approves, of course.”

“I feel fine,” Sam quickly interjected; even if she still felt a little shaky, she wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to learn more about the set-up she had fallen into. Sam shivered slightly when Jack walked past her, letting his fingers trail lightly down her arm.

“And when you’re finished,” he told Sheppard, “take her to see Zelenka, he’ll enjoy having a new brain to pick.”

“But…Jack? What about?” she called after him, her voice trailed off and she made a vague sweeping gesture with one hand. She barely knew any more than she had when she’d walked into the room and saw him sitting there, alive and well, after she’d believed him dead. She wanted to know what had happened, but more than that, she wanted to know what was going to happen to her now. She figured a cage was still a cage, no matter who was holding the key.

Jack stopped in the doorway, his expression softening slightly and she felt herself softening right along with it. “Go with Sheppard, Sam. I promise you, we’ll talk later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She’s not a happy camper.”

Jack looked up to find Sheppard standing in the open door to his office. Setting his pen down, Jack sat back in his chair and smiled as Sheppard came in and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” John added. “She played along, acted interested, even seemed happy to see Radek, once she got over her surprise.”

“Did she tell you anything?”

Sheppard shrugged. “Not anything that we don’t already know. She might tell Radek something, he was busy peppering her with questions about the phase shifting technology she used to shield the planet from the Ori when I left.”

“Who’s with her now?” It wasn't that Jack didn’t trust Radek, but the scientist tended to get absorbed in his work and he wouldn’t put it past Sam to wander off if Radek got preoccupied.

“Torres.”

Jack nodded. Torres was steady, reliable and built like a tank, six foot six and two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. Even someone like Sam Carter would have a tough time getting past him. “How long—” Sheppard’s radio buzzed and Jack waited. 

“Right, thanks. Good job.” 

Jack raised an eyebrow. 

“That was Torres, he’s taken her back to the infirmary.” 

“Good,” Jack said. “I’m sure she still needs the rest.”

“So…Cynthia tells me you requested dinner for two in your quarters tonight.” Sheppard’s comment was carefully casual, but Jack could sense the concern behind it.

“Cynthia,” Jack said mildly, thinking of their feisty cook and expert sniper, “has a big mouth.” 

“Cynthia—like the rest of us—is merely concerned with your well-being.”

“I see the gossip mill is still just as efficient as ever.”

“Jack, you really didn’t think you could bring her here and not have people be concerned.”

“Or talk, evidently. Maybe if people around here spent a little more time working instead of talking, we’d have something more to show for the past two years.” Sheppard merely looked amused by his outburst and while Jack normally didn’t second guess his decisions, he was now. “You think I should have just left her out there?”

“What I think doesn’t matter. She’s here and we can’t undo that. What matters now is what she can do for us.”

Sheppard’s assessment of the situation left him with a bad taste in his mouth. “We’re no better than Landry if that’s all she is to us—a tool.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Jack. Having second thoughts now? You said yourself we haven’t gotten anywhere in over a year. I may not like it, but now that she’s here, we need to take advantage of her knowledge. You could be right, she might just give us the advantage we need.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sat cross-legged on the bed, idly flipping through a pile of magazines Jordan had brought her to ‘help pass the time’. Most were over a year old and she entertained herself by trying to pick out the differences between their two worlds—an activity which didn’t hold her attention for too long. The biggest difference it seemed was something no one was prepared to tell her—like what had actually happened to screw this world up so much. But she played the polite guest and did as Jack had requested.

Unfortunately, though she should have expected it, Sheppard’s tour had mainly involved walking up and down corridors with him making terse comments every now and then. He had been exceedingly reluctant to talk, fielding her questions with a non-committal grunt or telling her she’d have to ask the Colonel. Before too long, she’d given up asking and had concentrated instead on memorizing the layout.

Her current situation was almost more frustrating than her experiences at the SGC. Granted, she hadn’t known that a Goa’uld was running things then, but so far her new allies were even less forthcoming than the enemy had been. She’d seen familiar faces, saw the brief flashes of recognition and felt their curious looks her direction during the tour and the time she spent with Zelenka, but no one was talking and in the end, she was none the wiser as to how they had gotten to where they were and why she had been brought here. 

When Sheppard had left her with Zelenka, she had hoped she’d gain more information from the scientist, but he had been just as cagey as Sheppard and in the end, she had done most of the talking. Zelenka’s lab was a hodge-podge of incredibly sophisticated equipment next to items that looked like antiques and were filled with transistors, interspersed here and there with obviously alien technology. Some she didn’t recognize and others she did, she’d even seen Merlin’s device sitting innocuously on a shelf, though if the Ori felt Earth was no longer a threat, it wouldn’t matter if they had the device or not.

Left with too much time to think, her thoughts strayed to Jack—the Colonel, she reminded herself. If he had meant to knock her off balance with his resurrection, he had. But once her initial shock at finding him alive had faded, not to mention finding Janet alive and host to Selmak, she had formed a tentative theory. That they were part of a resistance movement was obvious. She knew Jack O’Neill too well and she knew the Tok’ra. It was also obvious now that Jack had faked his own death and gathered together a group loyal to him. 

In this universe they obviously hadn’t made it to Atlantis and she could kick herself now for not trying to find out more information when she had the access about that fateful attack by Anubis which appeared to be the divergent point for their two realities. But she had been so focused on the imminent danger from the Ori and her own situation, the past history of world that wasn’t her own hadn’t been a priority.

And now she had the time, but no one was talking. She glared at the camera over the door and felt remotely better. She grabbed another magazine and started idly flipping through it, the fashion and hairstyle tips didn’t hold her attention for long and she found her thoughts drifting towards Jack. God, she missed him and all she wanted was to go home and never think of this world again. But when she conjured up an image of him, instead of the smiling man in his dress blues with two stars on his shoulders, all she could envision was the careworn and tired face of Colonel O’Neill. 

The lines between the two Jack O’Neill’s in her life were already blurring and she knew there would be nothing but trouble if she went down that road, but she couldn’t forget the intensity of his eyes, or the feel of his touch when his fingers had trailed down her arm. It had been the familiar touch of a lover, just another piece of a puzzle that she had no idea how to put together. In the long run though, she had to remember who she was and where she was—and while she wanted to help these people, she also wanted to go home.

Finally giving up on the magazines Sam hopped off the bed and stretched. She was feeling cooped up and it had been hours since Torres had escorted her back to her quarters. Restlessly prowling around the small room for a few moments, relief filled her when there was a knock at the door. 

“Colonel? Are you decent?”

Sam smiled. It was Jordan. “Your camera not working?”

She heard Jordan’s low chuckle and the sound of the lock turning. Sam stood back as the door swung open, revealing the woman and a portable blood pressure machine. “Time for your vitals.”

Sam obediently sat down on the bed, held out her arm and patiently suffered through the familiar routine. “Where’s Doctor Fraiser?” she asked. She hadn’t seen Janet since her revelation in the briefing room that morning.

“Going about her other duties, I imagine,” Jordan replied. 

“Right, of course,” Sam said, wondering at the slight rebuke she heard in the other woman’s voice.

Jordan stuck a thermometer in her mouth. “Don’t worry, if you needed her, the Doc would be here. She barely left your side the night you were brought in.” 

“Everything okay?” she asked when Jordan finally took the thermometer out of her mouth.

“You’ll live,” the woman said dryly. Jordan carefully folded up the blood pressure cuff and stowed the other items before she announced, “I’m to take you to dinner now.”

Sam brightened at the thought of dinner and maybe some company. “Great!” 

Jordan left the equipment in the room and Sam followed her down the maze of corridors that was starting to become familiar. She knew where the communal dining hall and lounge were, Torres had pointed that out, so when they passed it—and the sound of people laughing and talking—Sam frowned.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Jordan didn’t answer, taking her down several more hallways deeper into the facility before making a right turn that brought them to a short corridor she hadn’t noticed before and stopping in front of the only door. “Here,” was all she said, knocking on the door.

“Come.”

Sam felt a flutter of panic in the pit of her stomach when she heard that familiar voice, and it must’ve been reflected in her face, because Jordan gave her an encouraging smile. Pushing the door open, Jordan stood back, leaving Sam no option but to slip past her into the room. The door shut with a fatalistic air of finality behind her and Sam just stood there for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Casually looking around, she knew immediately she was in Jack’s private quarters. 

On first glance, the room appeared as austere as the rest of the base, but on closer inspection she saw there was a brightly colored Navajo rug on the floor, a leather sofa and armchair that had seen better days, the leather worn but inviting, the dark burgundy color broken up by several pillows that matched the colors in the rug. She also recognized several of the prints hanging on the wall—Jack had the same prints in his house; the room had a decidedly masculine air that spoke of Jack O’Neill.

The man himself stood by an old fashioned roll top desk, the typical green-shaded lamp glowing brightly over the papers scattered on it, evidence that he’d been working—that and the reading glasses lying haphazardly on top of the papers. “I’m glad you could come.”

He looked glad to see her, his dark eyes roaming over her in a manner she had long become accustomed to and before she realized it, she found herself wishing that she had something nicer to wear than olive drab BDUs. “I didn’t seem to have a choice,” she reminded him—and herself.

“You’re not a prisoner here, Sam.” Obviously favoring his left leg, he walked over to a small table where a bottle of wine and two crystal glasses sat.

“So, I’m free to go?”

“If that’s what you want.” He made quick work of the cork with a corkscrew on his pocket knife. “But if you leave, within five minutes Landry’s agents will have you and you’ll be right back where you started—a prisoner of the Goa’uld.” He poured the deep red wine into one of the crystal stems.

“Nice,” she commented when he handed her the wine, the fine crystal at odds with the rest of the room and what she’d seen so far on the base.

He actually flushed slightly. “Ah…well…Cynthia thought….”

She raised an eyebrow. “Cynthia?”

There was a sharp rap on the door and Jack looked relieved, crossing quickly to open it, his limp more obvious now and she wondered how he’d been injured, not that anyone was likely to tell her, she thought a bit sourly. She stood back out of the way, taking a sip of the nice Merlot and watched as a petite, dark-haired woman pushed a stainless steel cart into the room. Her dark eyes were bright with curiosity and Sam had the uneasy impression the woman was sizing her up, her gaze roaming over her before she looked at Jack.

“Where would you like this, sir?”

“On the table, Cynthia.” He gestured towards the only table in the room, where the wine bottle still sat.

Sam smiled slightly and Jack gave her a slightly exasperated look. The next several minutes were spent watching Cynthia lay out their dinner. She put a white table cloth on the table and set out two covered plates, revealing delicious smelling and looking steaks, baked potatoes and broccoli.

“You’re in luck,” Cynthia said, setting a basket of rolls and a small dish of butter on the table. “Mendoza came across a case of fresh broccoli today.” Two pieces of chocolate cake, covered with plastic wrap, were set on the table next and then with a flourish, from the bottom shelf of the cart, she pulled out a small vase with several pink roses and set it in the middle of the table.

“Anything else, sir?” Cynthia asked, the look on her face daring the Colonel to say anything about the flowers.

Sam liked her immediately. “I’m Colonel Samantha Carter,” she said, holding out her hand to the woman, who took it in a firm handshake. 

“Chief Master Sergeant Cynthia Fabares, ma’am,” she replied, snapping off a sharp salute.

“It looks wonderful,” Sam said.

Cynthia nodded and then turned to the Colonel. “If you need anything, just buzz me. And when you’re finished, just put the plates and leftovers on the cart and set outside in the hallway, sir.”

“Yes, Cynthia,” Jack said, herding her towards the door, “don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“Nice meeting you, ma’am,” Cynthia called from the doorway.

“Same here,” Sam replied, hoping the woman heard her because Jack had already closed—and locked—the door. 

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing towards the table. She smiled—and pretended that it didn’t concern her that he had locked the door—and walked over to the table. Even with his limp, he was there before her and pulled out the chair for her. 

“Thanks,” she murmured. It was an unexpected gesture, it certainly wasn't that Jack O’Neill couldn’t be gallant, but the whole dinner was starting to take on a surreal quality for Sam. Linen napkins—worn, but still sparkling white, rested on the table. The plates were a plain institutional stoneware, but the flatware was actual silver. The table service, the entire base and she acknowledged darkly, the man sitting opposite her, were a mass of contradictions. 

And for the first time Sam realized that while she knew General Jack O’Neill better than anyone in her galaxy, it was quite possible she didn’t know Colonel Jack O’Neill at all.

The food was delicious and they ate silently for several minutes, each of them, Sam noted, taking covert glances at the other. When their eyes met unexpectedly, she chuckled nervously and asked, “Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?”

“Maybe,” he said, flashing her a brief smile that she found incredibly unsettling. “Can’t say that I’ve encountered that many alternate universes. That was usually more Daniel’s thing.”

“This is the first time for me.” He raised an eyebrow and she flushed briefly, rushing on with her explanation. “At least, personally. I mean, I know the theory and we did have a quantum mirror for awhile. I’ve actually met other Samantha Carter’s, but this is the first time I’ve ever—”

“Been the other one?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Sam slowly set her utensils down, staring down at her half eaten steak. “At first,” she said softly, almost talking to herself, “after the initial confusion, it was exciting and thrilling and I don’t know.” She looked up at him them and smiled wryly. “I felt…smug and so sure of myself, compared to everyone else around me at the SGC—and I saved the Earth. But the longer I was there, the more isolated I felt and then, well…you know.”

“You discovered you’d taken a pretty big fork in the road?” 

Sam just stared at him, his fork analogy reminding her so fiercely of her Jack O’Neill, it took her breath away. “Ah, yeah,” she said, feeling incredibly flustered, looking anywhere but at his sympathetic brown eyes. 

Jack didn’t say anything else and Sam was grateful for that, though it meant they finished the rest of their meal in the same semi-awkward silence in which they’d started. Sam only managed a few bites of the incredibly moist and delicious chocolate cake before she gave up, sipping at her wine while Jack continued to eat. 

“Let’s go sit on the sofa,” he said, once he was finished with his cake.

She nodded absently and wondered how she was going to make it through the rest of the evening. Setting her napkin on the table, she stood up and looked around hesitantly. “I could use the ladies room….”

“Of course,” Jack said. He stood and Sam followed slowly behind him to the second door in the room; he pushed it open, reached in and a light came on. “In through there.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, slipping past him into the room. Her already minimal comfort level dropped dramatically when she rather stupidly realized it was his bedroom and she didn’t linger, quickly making her way to the small bathroom adjacent to his bedroom. Her fleeting impression was one of austerity when she saw the double bed covered with a dark bedspread, a single bedside table with a lamp, a worn armchair along with a basic chest of drawers. 

The bathroom was as utilitarian as the one off her room in the infirmary, though he did have a shower that looked like it had been added after the room’s initial construction. She used the facilities and washed her hands, gazing at her reflection in the mirror as she dried her hands with the plain white cotton towel. God, she had to get a grip, because she could feel herself losing it. She wondered wildly if this was how Doctor Samantha Carter had felt all those years ago when confronted by her alternate Jack O’Neill. Or better yet, was this how Jack felt? 

And for the first time ever, she finally understood Teal’c’s enigmatic comment, “Which reality is actually real?”

So far, she had failed to learn anything that she’d wanted to know; allowing her feelings for her Jack to influence how she dealt with Colonel O’Neill. But that had to change; she nodded firmly at her reflection, because no matter how weird or uncomfortable she felt with this O’Neill, she couldn’t allow herself to forget that her main goal was to return home—to her universe and her O’Neill. Fortified by her pep talk, Sam left the relative safety of the bathroom and returned to the main suite.

While she was in the bathroom, Jack had cleared away their dinner dishes and was just pushing the serving cart out into the hallway, but she noticed right away that he had placed their wine glasses and what was left of the bottle of merlot on the coffee table in front of the sofa. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, closing the door and shutting the overhead light off, the room solely illuminated now by a floor lamp situated between the angle of the sofa and the easy chair. Choosing the sofa, Sam sat down and pondered briefly the wisdom of taking her boots off before deciding she might as well be comfortable. Untying her boots, she slipped them off, along with her socks, and curled up in one corner and waited for him to join her.

He sat down at the other end, reminding her of all the times they’d sat like this, on the sofa at his house. His house…she sat up straight, a sick feeling curling in the pit of her stomach. “This is yours, isn’t?” she asked, smoothing her hand along the worn leather of the sofa and trying to ignore the way it suddenly trembled. “From your house.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The guys scavenged it not too long ago.”

His matter-of-fact response helped steady her. She had to keep her emotions out of this conversation or she’d never find out the information she needed. “Jack,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as his while she reached for her glass of wine and settled back in the corner of the sofa. “Tell me what happened.”

She waited while he stared at the glass of wine in his hand, his eyes shadowed when he finally looked at her. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“The beginning is always a good place.”

He laughed, the sound low and harsh. “The beginning…or the end, depends on your point of view, I guess.”

“From what I managed to piece together,” Sam said carefully, the bitterness in his voice unexpected. “I think the ‘fork in the road’ between our two universes was when Anubis attacked Earth. In my universe, we were able to defeat Anubis through your—” She caught herself and blushed slightly. “I mean, our Colonel O’Neill’s ability to operate the Ancient technology buried in Antarctica.”

“We were supposed to win against Anubis.” His lips twisted in a half smile. “But what we didn’t know was that the ZPM we found was almost depleted of its energy. We managed to get it to the chair room buried at Antarctica and activate the drones, but there just wasn’t enough power.”

“So you didn’t destroy Anubis’ ship?”

“No. The Prometheus surrendered and that’s when it all happened.”

“What?”

“Nobody really knows. All we know for sure is that there was a meeting between President Hayes, Vice President Landry and Anubis. When all the dust settled, Anubis and his fleet left, Hayes was missing and Landry had declared martial law.”

“Wait…Landry was vice-president?”

Jack shrugged. “Landry always had ambitions that went far beyond the Air Force.” 

“But what about Robert Kinsey? Or the Trust?”

Jack looked genuinely confused, but answered readily enough. “The members of the Trust were the first ones Landry ‘neutralized’ and Kinsey was killed by an assassin—”

“Impersonating you?” Her brain was spinning, trying to take in all the differences between their two universes. The Trust eliminated, no Robert Kinsey and Hank Landry a politician instead of an Air Force general.

Jack inclined his head slightly. “So no Landry running for political office in your reality?”

Sam smiled slightly. “He’s still in the Air Force, running the SGC ever since my O’Neill was transferred to DC to head up Home World Security.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Funny you should say that,” she commented dryly. “From what I can see around here, you’re not exactly living a life of leisure. Especially when there’s a grave with your name on it in Mountain View Cemetery.”

“Someone has to do it,” he said.

“Do what? So far no one has been very talkative.” She leaned towards him, her eyes intent and her voice betraying her irritation. “You’re supposed to be dead, yet here you are, alive and well and apparently operating some kind of underground resistance against Landry, or whoever he is.”

“Camulus.”

“Really?” She was surprised. “He’s moved up the ladder, hasn’t he?”

“Earth was his reward.”

“Doesn’t seem like much of a reward, what with the Ori threat and the strife here.”

“Maybe not, Sam. But he still controls the most powerful nation on Earth. And now that the Ori threat has been diverted, he can concentrate on his main agenda.”

“World domination?”

He almost smiled. “If nothing else, the Goa’uld are consistent.”

 

“And so is Jack O’Neill.” Nothing he had told her so far had really answered her question, so she asked him again, frustration making her tone sharper than she really intended. “How did this happen, Jack?” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but it hung in the air between them.

His eyes held hers for a long moment before he looked away and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded tired and distant. “I wasn’t here, Sam. I was frozen in stasis in Antarctica for almost a year until Fraiser and Sheppard managed to rescue me.” 

All of her frustration and anger evaporated with his revelation; she sat back against the cushions and just stared at him. He turned his head, his eyes meeting hers briefly, before he once more looked away.

“There wasn’t anything I could do. The official word was that I had been killed in the attack over Antarctica. Hammond, Fraiser and a few others knew otherwise, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. Ever since the debacle where Fraiser was almost killed, Hammond had been reduced to merely a figurehead with no power. Landry was the one really in control of the SGC, but it wasn’t until the civil unrest escalated and Landry moved his headquarters to the SGC that they knew why, well at least, Fraiser knew why.”

“She discovered he was a Goa’uld.”

Jack nodded. “And he discovered she was Tok’ra.”

Sam didn’t need to ask what happened after that, obviously Fraiser had escaped and with her access to the Stargate gone, she had continued to fight the Goa’uld in the only way left to her. Jack fell silent and she sat there, lost in thought, automatically holding out her wine glass when he picked up the bottle from the table. He’d filled in some of the gaps, but there will still some pretty big holes, mostly related to Sheppard’s presence and the curious absence of any mention SG1. 

“What about SG1?” She took a sip of the wine.

Jack’s smile was grim. “Do you want the official version or what really happened?”

“I was told that Teal’c left the SGC to join the Jaffa rebellion and that Daniel had been captured by the Ori.” She didn’t ask him about Mitchell or Vala, whatever had happened had occurred long before either of them had become involved with the SGC.

Jack’s shrug was almost imperceptible, but she was used to reading him and she seemed to have the same knack with this version as well. “Basically true. Teal’c isn’t with the SGC, but only because he was warned not to return after Landry took control. As for Daniel.” Jack sighed. “He remained on the inside as one of our contacts, but then when the Ori came…nobody knows for sure where he is now, not even Landry. We know he’s with the Ori, but whether he went voluntarily or was forced, is anybody’s guess.”

He seemed confident of his information and so she asked, “You have another informant on the inside?”

Jack nodded. “You met him. Major Lorne.” 

She tilted her head slightly and considered his response. She didn’t know Lorne all that well—in either universe—but what she did know lent credence to the idea of him being one of the ‘good guys’. Which only left one other person. “What about Major Carter?” she asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer but driven by morbid curiosity regarding her dead counterpart. 

Whatever rapport she had felt growing between them vanished. Jack’s face grew remote and his voice was as cold as his eyes. “She’s dead.”

“I know,” she replied softly. “I killed her, remember?”

Her answer seemed to have surprised him, his eyes filling with sadness before he shook his head. “No, you didn’t kill her,” he murmured. “Samantha Carter died a long time ago.”

A sick feeling started to develop in her gut, but she had started this and she needed to finish it. “Are you saying,” she took a gulp of her wine before continuing, “that she collaborated with the Goa’uld?”

“In a manner of speaking.” His voice was once more cool and remote. “She was a Goa’uld.”

The sick feeling in her stomach suddenly gave way to a buzzing in her head, unbidden memories of Jolinar and those terrifying days when she’d been an unwilling host flashed through her mind, the pain…confusion…horror. Sam instinctively knew that Major Carter hadn’t willingly become a Goa’uld which only increased her revulsion. She was dimly aware of Jack’s voice above the ringing in her ears when the wine glass was removed from her unresisting fingers and for the second time that day, a hand pushed her head down between her knees. 

His hand remained there, his touch warm and almost tender on her nape, his voice rough as he told her take deep breaths. Sucking in a deep breath, she sagged a bit, feeling the blood rush back to her head. She normally wasn’t this weak, and maybe it was a combination of everything that had happened to her during the last few days, but just the thought of her other self being a Goa’uld made her feel sick. Realizing she was holding her breath again, Sam took another shaky breath. 

The warm hand on her neck disappeared and she shivered, feeling the loss of his touch acutely when she felt his hand sliding around her and she let him pull her upright. Ignoring the faint voice of caution, she settled back onto the sofa next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He stiffened for a brief moment, but then she felt him relax and he shifted, his arm remaining around her as he pulled her close. The ease and familiarity of his touch made her heart ache; she wasn’t sure if the keen sense of loss filling her was for him or for herself. 

It suddenly hit her then and she wondered how she could have been so blind. When whatever had happened to change this world had happened, he had lost everything, including his Samantha Carter. It somehow made her problems seem petty and inconsequential compared to what had happened to him. Even if they were currently beyond her reach, at least she still had her home…and her Jack.

She laid her hand on his thigh. “You loved her.” 

The fingers that had been lightly rubbing her arm paused and she felt the deep breath he took. “Yes.”

Sam tilted her head and looked at him; he was looking straight ahead, his expression distant. “Did she love you?” 

His face softened for a moment and she had her answer before he even spoke. “She did.” Jack looked down at her then, his dark eyes full of pain…and guilt. “Before it happened.” He turned slightly, raising his free arm, he lightly stroked her cheek and she shivered slightly at his touch. “I came back from stasis and she was married to McKay. I found out later Landry’s first order of business had been to snake her.”

Part of her knew she shouldn’t be sitting here with him, like this, having this particular discussion, but she needed to understand—and she couldn’t stop. “Why?” 

Sam couldn’t move, much less drag her eyes away from his when Jack’s hand came to rest at her throat, his thumb moving delicately across her neck until it rested over her carotid and she knew he could feel her heart racing. “Landry needed her brain and it was the only way he could control her.”

She was sinking rapidly into the sensual haze brought on by his touch, the look in his eyes all heightened by the automatic intimacy that ensnared them both. Whatever defenses she had erected against feeling anything more than sympathy and pity for this Jack O’Neill faded before the heartache and pain still visible in eyes. Rallying briefly, Sam tried to fight her inevitable response to him. “I’m not her.”

His eyes darkened and she watched mesmerized as his head slowly lowered. “I know,” he murmured, his breath fanning across her face and his lips just brushing against hers.

“Jack,” she protested faintly, pressing her hand to his chest. Her brain screamed at her to stop him, that he wasn’t her Jack O’Neill even though he looked, smelled and, god help her, tasted like him. But she couldn’t; her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and she pulled him closer, her mouth opening to the soft persuasion of his kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack pulled her closer, teasing her lips with feather-light kisses before the feel of her in his arms and the touch of her mouth against his demanded more and he took it. Her mouth opened readily to his, the hand that had been clutching at his shirt now wrapped tightly around his neck. She tasted at once so familiar and yet so different that he felt totally off-balance, but then he’d felt that way from the moment he’d first seen her at the news conference. 

Even as he continued to kiss her, threading the fingers of one hand in her short hair while the other wrapped more tightly around her, Jack tried to convince himself that he hadn’t intended this to happen; that the only reason he’d invited her to have dinner in his quarters was so he could learn more about this Samantha Carter who had fallen—house and all—into their universe, wreaking as much havoc as Dorothy. And maybe the evening had started out innocently enough, but the longer he was with her the harder it had become to think of her as a stranger—who looked exactly like the woman he had loved and ultimately lost.

He, more than anyone, knew she wasn’t his Samantha Carter, that she had a life and presumably another Jack O’Neill waiting for her in that other universe, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her. The circumstances of her arrival in this universe were rapidly becoming inconsequential in the face of his growing need for her. It wasn’t fair to her, but when she moaned softly as his mouth slid from her lips, her warm breath sweeping across his cheek while he pressed his mouth to her neck, nipping lightly, he didn’t care. 

Jack ran his lips up the delicate line of her throat, nuzzling her ear. Her hair brushed across his cheek and he inhaled deeply. She didn’t smell like flowers and sunshine, she smelled of the plain soap they all used and the barest hint of the shampoo she’d used last, but most of all, she smelled like his dreams. But they were his dreams, not hers. Jack dropped his head to her shoulder briefly and took a deep breath before pulling away from her, but he couldn’t release her completely.

Framing her face with his hands, Jack smoothed his thumb over her lips. There was still time for her to say no, if that was what she wanted, because he didn’t have the strength to let her go. He wanted to tell her that he’d understand if she got up and walked out on him, slapped his face and told him to go to hell, but she didn’t. Her smile was tender; her blue eyes were as clear as a mountain lake and just as deep.

“Sam, you don’t—” 

“Shhh,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering down when she turned her face into his hand and briefly kissed his palm. “It’s okay.” When her eyes turned back to him, still just as deep and mysterious, Jack knew he was lost. One of her hands crept up between them and she caressed his cheek. “I know who you are.” 

“Who?” he murmured hoarsely.

Sam’s hand slid around to his nape and he shivered when her nails raked delicately through the short hairs there before she pressed gently, urging him closer. “Jack.”

The rush of relief that surged through him should have warned him, but all he could feel now was the sweet brush of her lips against his. Easing slowly off the sofa, Jack’s hands trailed lightly down her arms and he took hold of her hands, pulling her with him. She came willingly into his arms, her lips meeting his without any coaxing and her arms wrapped tightly around him. The few feet to his bedroom door had never seemed farther away than they did right then, when he struggled to keep his head long enough to get them to his bed.

He shuffled backwards, cautious of his bad leg, until his back hit the wall; it didn’t help when Sam stumbled up against him, her breath rushing out in a soft whoosh. Jack wrapped his left arm around her and tried to ignore the soft feel of her breasts against him and the way her hips pressed into his while he groped for the handle on the bedroom door with his right hand. He wasn’t worried anymore that she would change her mind and any lingering doubts he had as to the moral ambiguity of seducing a Sam Carter who might have a relationship with another version of himself disappeared in the bittersweet passion flooding through his veins. If possession was nine-tenths of the law, then the universe was finally on his side.

The doorknob finally turned under his hand and he maneuvered them both into the darkened room. He briefly considered not turning the bedside lamp on, but the darkness would be too much like his dreams—and his waking life as well. If this was the only reality he was to be allowed, he didn’t want to miss anything. However, he didn’t need any light to find his way to the bed and he guided her in a slow dance to the bed, her BDU shirt dropping to the floor just as he bumped against the mattress. Tugging at her T-shirt, he was momentarily distracted by the soft skin at her waist, sliding one hand under the shirt and running his fingers up her spine. Jack felt her shiver against him and he didn’t waste anymore time, quickly pulling her T-shirt off and flinging it in the direction of the armchair.

Jack didn’t want to let her go, he told himself it was because she felt too good in his arms, but part of him was still afraid she’d slip away if he released her, but it was the only way he could reach the lamp. Fumbling briefly in the dark, he finally managed to switch it on, the soft glow transforming his austere bedroom into some place cozy and inviting, or maybe it was the presence of the woman beside him. 

Turning back to her, Jack stifled a low groan; she was poised briefly before him with her hands behind her back and when she lowered them, her bra slid down her arms. Her breasts were creamy white in the muted light from the lamp, the tips a rosy pink, and he ached to reach out and touch them…but he didn’t. It wasn’t logical, but given the precariousness of his control, he wanted her safely in his bed before he indulged himself any further.

She tossed her bra onto the armchair with her T-shirt and when she looked back at him from beneath her lashes, a half smile playing across her face, a fist clenched around his heart. The small, drab room abruptly disappeared and Sam was there with him, that last time at his cabin nearly three years ago now, when they’d thought they had all the time in the world to live and love…before Daniel had convinced them they actually had a chance against Anubis and he’d stuck his head in that damn repository.

Realizing that he’d totally lost his perspective didn’t stop Jack from stepping off the precipice and plummeting head first into her arms. Quantum theory and forks in the road meant nothing to him now, for when he looked in her eyes, there was only one reality that mattered. In the span of one heartbeat she was back in his arms, his hands roving hungrily up and down the smooth skin of her back. Confident of his welcome now, Jack kissed her with all the passion he’d been denied for so many years, setting the wildness in his soul free.

As if answering the urgency she felt in his kiss, his touch, Jack felt Sam’s hands tugging at his BDU shirt, her fingers scrabbling under it for the hem of his T-shirt. She whimpered when he released her, their hands meeting and tangling in their mutual desire. Tossing the offending garments aside, Jack hastily pulled down the covers on the bed; Sam’s arms closed around him from behind and he paused briefly, his eyes closing on the sweet feel of her breasts pressed against his back, of her hands stroking and caressing his chest, until he felt her fingers slip beneath the waistband. 

Jack groaned at the tantalizing caress, but quickly grabbed her wrists and ignoring her soft murmur of protest, turned until she was once more in his arms and with deliberate care, lowered her onto the bed. Kneeling with his bad leg on the mattress, Jack slid trembling fingers in a light caress across her belly before fumbling with the buttons on her trousers. Cool fingers mingled with his and he glanced up at her face; her smile was tender and he felt that fist clench around his heart again, his breath caught and all the loneliness and pain almost came tumbling out before he felt her hips shift beneath his hands. Dragging his eyes away from hers, Jack saw she had finished what he had started and grabbing at the waistband, he pulled her trousers and panties off. 

Standing, Jack let her clothes drop to the floor before he unfastened his belt, his fingers moving on automatic as he watched her. It had been a lifetime ago since he’d undressed for any woman—except the doctor—and while he wasn’t a vain man, he wondered how he’d compare and what she’d think of his mangled thigh. But he discovered he’d once again underestimated her when she didn’t look away or try to disguise the compassion in her eyes. 

Rising up on one elbow, she held out her hand to him and her voice was low and inviting. “Jack.” He took her hand and let her pull him down onto the bed. 

It seemed awkward at first and Jack was pretty sure it was all him; he felt as clumsy as a teen-ager fumbling his way to second base for the first time. But it didn’t take long for his body to remember how to fit itself to her curves, his lips and his hands finding all the hidden spots that made her quietly moan with pleasure. And if he remembered, so did she; her hands moved with sure confidence, stroking and caressing his quivering muscles, drawing him ever deeper into the dark desire that engulfed them. 

Jack wanted to make this moment in her arms last forever, but he had learned the hard way that fate was a heartless bitch and so he concentrated instead on remembering every touch...every caress…every kiss. He wanted to remember how soft her skin was beneath his fingers, the way her muscles rippled when she moved, cradling him with her arms…her legs. And he wanted to burn into his memory how her eyes darkened and her breath hitched, sighing out his name when they finally came together. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hammond stood at the observation deck, watching and listening over the intercom while Colonel Makepeace questioned their guest. He wasn’t happy with the turn of events, Colonel Carter’s disappearance had escalated the paranoia that already ran deep in the administration and while he disapproved of Makepeace’s interrogation techniques, he hadn’t been given any choice by Landry but to comply. 

“But I’ve already told you, I don’t know where she is!” The chubby scientist looked bewildered—and scared; his clothes were disheveled and a dark bruise was already beginning to form around his right eye. 

“You were one of the last people to speak with her, Doctor.” Makepeace walked closer to the chair where Lee sat, his hands bound behind his back with a tie-band. “Are you sure she didn’t tell you her plans, Doctor?”

“No, like I’ve already told you.” Lee’s voice trembled slightly, but he remained consistent with his story. “She wanted an update on the simulations I’d been running to try and establish a bridge between our universe and hers.”

“What did you tell her?” Makepeace stood behind him, Lee visibly flinching when the big marine’s hands rested on his shoulders.

“That we couldn’t replicate them.”

“And how did she react?”

“Well, she was disappointed—”

“How’s it going?”

Hammond turned at the sound of Landry’s voice, the president walked into the room, coming to stand next to him at the window. Charles took his customary position just behind the president, the two secret service agents standing just inside the closed door. Hammond and Landry both looked down into the interrogation room, Hammond’s jaw tightening when Makepeace picked up the Goa’uld pain stick and used it on the defenseless doctor, who cried out in agony, his face distorted with the orange energy waves from the device.

“He says he doesn’t know anything about her disappearance and I believe him.”

“That’s what they all say,” Landry retorted with a short laugh.

“Sir, I believe we would be better served by using our resources on other avenues of investigation into Colonel Carter’s disappearance.”

Landry turned, the expression in his eyes so cold that George wondered if he’d finally overstepped his bounds. But then Landry’s expression relaxed and he nodded. “You may be right, George. Charles? The list.” Landry held up his hand and Charles placed a folded piece of paper in it. “I have a list of possible allies that Colonel Carter may try to contact for help. I want you to find each of these individuals and bring them here for questioning.”

“Yes, sir.” Hammond replied, a deep sense of foreboding filled him as he took the list. Barely acknowledging the president’s departure, George slowly unfolded the paper and looked at the names written there: Doctor Rodney McKay, Cassandra Fraiser, Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Doctor Janet Fraiser. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John turned three cards over, placing the seven of hearts on the eight of clubs and frowned at the next card, the queen of spades. The queen’s serene face mocked him, the king of diamonds was already placed with the queen of clubs, but so far the king of hearts remained hidden. Scowling, John tossed the cards down and looked at his watch—2230. The lounge was deserted, the small group of people who had clustered in scattered groups having slowly disappeared, leaving him to his deck of cards. 

He wondered what was going on in the Colonel’s quarters. He supposed he could always knock on the older man’s door and ask—an action that would totally piss the Colonel off whether Carter was still with him or not. Giving up on the card game, John realized he wasn’t going to be happy until he knew the location of their guest. He snorted softly, and if she was where he suspected she was, he still wasn’t going to be happy. 

Shutting the light off behind him, John walked swiftly down the quiet corridors, heading to the infirmary first. Classical music played softly, coming from the office/nurse’s station located in the same hallway as the two patient rooms. Sticking his head in the open door, he saw Jordan sitting at the desk, the knitting needles she held in her hands flying, transforming the brightly colored yarn into…something.

Before John could say anything, she looked up and smiled knowingly, the needles still moving rhythmically. “She’s not here, baby.”

John frowned, and not because she’d called him ‘baby’. “Right, thanks,” he muttered, her chuckle following him down the hallway as he made his way to the security office. This time instead of music, he heard voices coming from the open door of the room. Wondering who was in there beside Torres, John carefully looked around the door frame. Torres sat leaning back in the chair, feet propped up on the desk, gazing intently at one of the monitors. John had his answer as to the source of the voices. 

Julia Donovan smiled pertly from her set at Inside Access, babbling to the camera about Earth’s new era, now that the Ori threat had been eliminated. Yeah right, Sheppard thought grimly, he’d believe that once Landry was dead. John cleared his throat and Torres about fell of his chair, his feet sliding with a thud to the floor.

“Sir,” he stammered, “sorry, sir. Didn’t hear you.”

“It’s all right, Torres,” John said. “I’ve got it covered.” 

Torres looked uncertain for a minute, but then he shrugged and stood up, walking out of the room without a backward look. They normally didn’t staff the security monitors at night, counting on the various sensors and alarms to notify them of any problems, but given the identity of their guest, John had decided a little extra caution was warranted. Sitting down in the chair Torres had just vacated, John’s practiced eyes surveyed the array of monitors on the wall before him. All was quiet, both inside and outside the compound. 

Flicking several switches, he changed the view on several of the monitors, when a flicker of movement on the camera focused on the corridor that led to the Colonel’s quarters caught his eye. Taking a closer look, he immediately saw it was just Cynthia, wheeling away the kitchen cart that had been parked in the hallway. With her usual impertinence—when she reached the junction, she looked directly at the camera and winked. John snorted, wondering how she knew he was watching or more than likely, she’d just made an educated guess.

Whether he liked it or not, their guest was safely stowed away for the night. Resigning himself to a long night, John switched his attention to the computer at the desk and accessing their secured system, began trolling the various news sites, message boards and blogs—authorized and underground—searching for any mention of their famous, and very missing, visitor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam’s heart was pounding, her lungs were burning and she ran and ran and ran. No matter how fast she ran though, she could still hear them behind her. She ran through the unfamiliar city streets until she finally turned down an alley and straight into a dead end. Gasping for breath and searching vainly for a way out, she was ultimately forced to turn and face her attackers, who were suddenly on her in numbers too big for her to ever hope to fight off by hand. She cried out, or thought she did, when she woke up and realized it had all been a dream. She was home…in her bed…. 

Rolling onto her side, she snuggled up against Jack and wrapped her arm around him, her heart rate returning slowly to normal when it all came flooding back to her in a tangled rush. This wasn’t her bedroom, her bed, or even the bedroom in Jack’s townhouse in DC. She wasn’t even in her own reality—and she was in bed with a stranger. Her body hadn’t seemed to notice the difference, welcoming him with a fervency and abandon that should have dismayed her...but didn’t. 

If she was smart, she’d leave his bed right now, while he slept, and forget that this night had ever happened. Sam slowly opened her eyes to inky darkness. Sometime after their tumultuous love-making and after she’d fallen asleep, he’d shut the lamp off. Gradually her vision adjusted and she realized there was a soft glow of light coming from the bathroom, some kind of night light she imagined. But before she could even put her tentative plan into action, she felt his breathing change and when she felt him start to move, she had no choice but to shift with him until she laid against his side now, her head on his chest and his arms wrapped around her. 

“Having regrets?” He didn’t sound hurt or accusing, he sounded tired. 

She sighed softly, not questioning how he knew she’d been awake. “You’ve got to admit it’s a weird situation.” 

His low chuckle vibrated up through his chest. “Not any weirder than waking up after being on ice for a year and finding the entire world turned upside down.”

“No, I suppose not.” They lay quietly and she wondered if he had fallen back asleep when she felt his fingers start to run lightly through her hair. He’d told her earlier the basics of what had happened, but she still didn’t know how he’d gotten from the Antarctica to…wherever they were. And maybe more importantly, why she was here. 

“Jack,” she asked, her hand idly stroking his chest. “What happened?” She’d asked the same question hours ago, with mixed results and she wondered what he’d say now, in the intimacy of the bed rumpled from their love-making.

The hand in her hair paused briefly before it started moving again, his voice quiet in the dark room. “Fraiser risked everything to bring me out of stasis; Daniel had translated some Ancient documents that he smuggled out to her, gave her the basics of how to revive me. Once she had that, she managed to convince Sheppard that Landry wasn’t all he appeared to be, which really didn’t require too much effort on her part.”

“How did they get you out of Antarctica?”

“Snow cat and then a Zodiac to the Falklands.”

“The Falklands?” It sounded farfetched and desperate, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Sheppard had contacts.” Jack’s shoulder moved beneath her head in a shrug. “They got us from the Falklands, to Brazil, to Mexico and finally back here. Fraiser had somehow already managed to bring together what military personnel she could from the SGC who knew the truth about Landry, but they were fragmented.”

“They needed a leader.”

“They needed someone with nothing to lose.”

Sam made a soft sound of distress and shifted, rising up on one arm and looking down at him. She could barely make out his features in the dim light, but she could imagine the carefully cultivated mask of indifference that was on his face. “Don’t say that.”

“I went to see her once, you know, while she was still married to McKay.” He chuckled softly and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Thought I could get through to her, that something of Sam would still be there. But she looked at me with those cold blue eyes and laughed in my face before she pulled out a hand device.”

“Oh, Jack,” she murmured, automatically stroking his hair, seeking to soothe…comfort. 

“Probably would have killed me too, except McKay happened to show up unexpectedly. First time I was ever glad to see the poor bastard.”

“He didn’t know?” She felt him shake his head under her hand. 

“No, I’m not sure if he ever knew. Probably better off that way, sometimes I wish I’d never found out, that Fraiser and Selmak had never figured out how to restore me—”

“No,” she interrupted swiftly, pressing two fingers to his lips. “Don’t say that, don’t ever say that.” Whatever doubts she had resurrected since she’d woken up in his bed vanished and she let her fingers slide slowly off his lips in a lingering caress. It wasn’t any different here than it was in her reality. “They all need you, Earth needs you.”

Sam lowered her head, her lips almost touching his when his hand suddenly tightened in her hair, tugging her head back. She didn’t struggle and he reached out, turning on the bedside lamp. She blinked furiously, her eyes watering at the sudden onslaught of light. When she could finally see again, he was staring up at her, his expression grim and his eyes filled with an almost unbearable sadness that broke her heart.

“What about you?” he asked quietly. “Do you need me?”

In direct contrast to his expression, his tone was so matter of fact, it sent a chill through her. It was a question he had no right to ask, but she couldn’t stand the grief and sadness in his eyes and acknowledged at that moment she would do anything to ease his pain. This was the side of Jack she only knew from Daniel’s stories of that first trip to Abydos and the all too brief glimpses she’d stumbled across over the intervening years. 

“Yes,” she whispered hoarsely, feeling his hand loosen in her hair, his fingers lightly caressing now. “I need you.” 

Sam didn’t know until the moment she actually said the words that it was the truth; perhaps it was inevitable or perhaps she was trying to justify her actions; and maybe it really didn’t matter anymore. The love she felt for her Jack O’Neill wouldn’t allow her to abandon this Jack O’Neill. 

Feeling more confident than she had in days, Sam once more lowered her head. His fingers relaxed and she felt his hand slide through her short hair until it rested warmly on her nape. He didn’t urge her closer, his body tense and still beneath her, his eyes dark and haunted. Brushing his lips lightly with hers, Sam teased and caressed until she felt the first flickers of response. His lips trembled slightly at her persistent touch, the hand resting at her nape pressing ever so lightly.

His breath rushed out in a low sigh and she kissed him fully then, mouth open, tongue sliding past his lowered defenses, stroking and tasting and arousing. Sam couldn’t remember exactly when, but sometime between the moment she’d walked through the door to his quarters and now, when she felt him respond to her kiss with a desperation that should have scared her, she’d ceased to make a differentiation between the two O’Neill’s. If there was a difference, it was on such a microscopic level as to be undetectable; he looked the same, smelled the same, tasted the same and she couldn’t help but love him the same.

Though Jack responded to her kiss, he remained passive and she took the initiative, this time making love to him. She was breathless when her mouth finally left his; the slight stubble on his jaw was rough against her lips when she dragged them across his cheek, nipping his earlobe before trailing a leisurely path down his throat. Stopping briefly to press her lips against the hollow of his throat, she gradually shifted position until she straddled his hips. The hand he still rested on her nape slowly drifted down her arm, coming to stop gently on her hip. 

There were differences, she discovered, when she gazed down at him. When they’d made love earlier, she hadn’t paid too much attention to the subtler details; he seemed thinner to her—leaner and tougher. Her hands feathered lightly along his rib cage, the bones more prominent and his muscles better defined. She could feel the raised and slightly rougher are of scar tissue on his injured leg pressing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Life had not been easy for him and she knew her unexpected presence hadn’t made things easier. But…his skin was warm and she took her time, kissing and caressing his chest, listening and feeling the increasingly unsteady rise and fall of his chest, the steady beat of his heart. 

In the quiet intimacy of his room in this universe so very different and yet so much the same as her own, the only sounds were those of their ragged breathing, the rustle of the sheets and the mild creak of the mattress when she moved. Shifting lower, she pressed soft kisses to his firm belly, her lips curving in a slight smile at his sharp intake of breath when her breasts brushed fleetingly against his erection. But she didn’t linger, instead she started pressing kisses along his hip bone, her fingers now delicately tracing the raised line of flesh on his thigh, smoothing across the remnant of his old injury.

She looked up and found him watching her, his breathing uneven but his gaze steady. “How did you get this?” she murmured.

“Staff weapon.”

“Janet couldn’t heal you?” 

“She did as much as she could, but the damage to the muscle was too extensive.”

Sam knew there had to be more to it than that, but she didn’t press him. It did things she didn’t like to her insides to think of him wounded…hurting; though sadly it seemed like that was the most life held for him right now. Except for this moment, when it was just the two of them. Pressing a kiss to the puckered flesh, she turned her attention back to giving him pleasure. 

She stroked, caressed and fondled him as if he was the most precious thing and her life, and perhaps he was. His muscles trembled beneath her touch as she explored every sensitive spot, finding intense satisfaction at the low moans and soft sighs in his increasingly ragged response. His reactions were starting to affect her too and when he groaned her name, his strong hands closing on her upper arms and tugging her up his body, his hard penis trapped between their bodies and pressing into her belly, she gave into his wordless plea. 

Rising to her knees, Sam reached for him, looking at Jack in surprise when he reached out, his hand tightening around her wrist. “Samantha.” His voice was low and rough when he spoke. “I won’t be a substitute.”

Her stomach lurched with his softly spoken words. What they had let happen—and she had no illusions that it hadn’t been mutual—had been a mistake. But now that it had, when they had both lowered their defenses and let the other in, she wasn’t going to regret it, or pretend that she hadn’t known exactly what she was doing. 

“You’re not,” she finally said. 

His hand fell from her wrist, his eyes closing briefly, and when he reopened them, she wasn’t sure what she saw in their dark depths. Pain…sorrow…love? The one emotion she could recognize was desire and bracing herself with a hand on his chest, she leaned forward. His eyes closed and she sighed, pressing an almost chaste kiss to his lips before she whispered in his ear, “You’re Jack O’Neill. How can I not love you?”

“Oh god…Sam,” he groaned harshly, his breath hot against her cheek. 

Pushing herself upright, Sam reached for his rigid length and this time he didn’t stop her. Grasping him, she once more rose over him. Jack’s hands moved in a slow caress along her thighs, finally settling on her waist, steadying her; her eyes never leaving his as she slowly sank down on him. Her breath caught at the way he stretched and filled her, each sensation even more powerful this time, with the truth no longer hidden. With every rise and fall of her hips, each caress given and received, the passion between them grew and expanded until they were both engulfed in its fiery embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Sam woke up, she was alone in the bed. The almost complete darkness in the room gave her no clue as to what time of day it was; she listened for any signs of activity from the bathroom, but heard nothing. Stretching across the bed, she fumbled for the lamp on the bedside table, finally finding it. Not that having light helped that much. She didn’t have a watch and as far as she could see, no clock in the bedroom. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure how well her internal clock was working, but—in spite of the night’s activities—she felt rested. 

Sighing softly, she sat up in the middle of the bed and looked around the room. Her discarded clothing from the night before was folded neatly on the chair in the room; the clothes Jack had been wearing were nowhere to be seen. It unnerved her slightly that she had slept through Jack getting up and dressing, but then he had a talent for stealth. Of course, she thought when she stretched and felt the slight pull in her shoulder, she did have an excuse. Well, no matter what the circumstances, she was awake and as tempting as it might seem, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to hide out in the Colonel’s bedroom. 

Getting up, she padded barefoot to the bathroom and took a quick shower, ignoring how the plain soap smelled like Jack; the slight dampness of the towel she dried herself with that told her he had used the same towel earlier. Wiping at the steam-covered mirror, she used his comb to bring her wet hair into some semblance of order. Looking at her reflection, she couldn’t help but wonder, even after the tumultuous night they’d spent together, who he saw when he looked at her. Or maybe because of what they had shared, she decided wryly. 

But then, it didn’t matter, did it? She had made her decision, just as he had. Leaving the bathroom, she dressed swiftly, resigned to the almost certain knowledge that everyone on base would know where she had spent the night. She had nothing to be ashamed of; she hadn’t done anything wrong...no, she amended swiftly, they hadn’t done anything wrong. But she knew that Sheppard would be even more suspicious and while Fraiser wouldn’t say anything, she could already see the worried look that would be in her eyes. Probably the only people who would be pleased were Jordan and Cynthia—and hopefully Jack.

Sam carefully opened the door to the outer room and frowned slightly when she realized it was empty. She looked around for a note or something, but didn’t see anything out of place, even the wine bottle and their glasses from the night before had been neatly cleared away while she slept. Well, she knew her way back to the infirmary. Holding her head high, she crossed to the door to the outer corridor, relieved when the knob turned under hand, only to open it and find John Sheppard lounging in a folding chair directly opposite the door.

“Oh,” she murmured, unable to stop the slight flush she felt flooding her cheeks. “Good morning.”

Sheppard’s answer was a non-committal grunt as he unfolded his tall frame from the rickety-looking chair. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, stubbornly deciding not to leave the dubious safety of Jack’s quarters before she knew.

He huffed and gave her a pained look. “Back to the infirmary,” he all but growled. Sheppard looked like he was wearing the same clothes she’d seen him in yesterday and she wondered darkly if he had been up all night keeping track of her. It would go along way towards explaining his current attitude, though on reflection, this mood wasn’t too different from any of his previous attitudes towards her.

“I could have found my way there myself,” she muttered.

Sheppard continued to look pained, though now it was tinged with disbelief. “Do you actually think you’ll have full access to the base just because O’Neill has a soft spot for blondes named Sam Carter?”

“No,” she bristled at his tone and his comment. “I think you should start to trust me. Like he has.”

Sheppard laughed and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Oh, like we haven’t heard that before. Come on,” he ordered, turning his back on her and starting down the corridor. “Fraiser’s waiting.”

Sam gritted her teeth and followed Sheppard. The hallways were quiet, just like her escort, and she was relieved when they finally turned down the corridor that led to the infirmary. She would have gone on to her room, but Sheppard stopped short at an open door. Sam ignored him and stepped inside, finding herself in what looked to be an exam room. 

“I’ll let the doc know you’re here,” he said shortly, closing the door with a sardonic smile.

Sam sat down on a stool next to the exam table and sighed, wondering morosely if everyone but Jack was going to treat her like a pariah. She was tired of being treated like an unwanted visitor and in spite of determination to get answers from Jack last night, she still didn’t know what he really wanted from her. In the grim light of day, she couldn’t help but think that maybe he had just been curious…. Well, he’d had his curiosity satisfied and now maybe they’d be able to get down to business. 

The door opened and Sam smiled uncertainly when Janet entered the room, closing the door behind her. The doctor’s smile was genuine and Sam started to feel marginally better. 

“How are you feeling this morning, Sam?” 

“Pretty good,” she replied.

“I need to take a look at your shoulder.” Fraiser set down the folder she’d been carrying. “Take your shirt off and then sit on the table.”

Sam did as requested and then waited while Janet flipped through what she assumed was her chart and made some notations. “How’d you sleep last night?” the doctor asked without looking up.

Frowning slightly, Sam tried to decide if it was a trick question or whether Janet really wanted to know. “Pretty good,” she finally said, going for positive, yet relatively non-committal.

Fraiser looked at her then. “When was your last depo shot?”

It took Sam a moment to understand what Janet met and when she did, she flushed slightly but met the doctor’s eyes. “Umm…two months ago. I think.”

“You only think?” Fraiser asked, her tone suddenly sharp.

“No…” she replied carefully. “I’m sure. It was two months ago.” Then she suddenly realized what Fraiser meant and was appalled. “Janet! You don’t actually think I’d be that stupid?”

“Most days I don’t know what to think, Sam,” Fraiser commented dryly, closing the file and walking to stand behind her. The doctor’s hands were gentle when she prodded her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to have any…repercussions when you get back to your own reality.”

“I…thanks, Janet.” Sam took a deep breath. “It’s all just so weird.”

“Oh, honey,” Fraiser chuckled. “Don’t I know it.” Sam felt more prodding. “How does that feel?”

Sam rotated her shoulder before replying, even though her activities during the night had already proven that her shoulder didn’t bother her. “It feels okay.” She craned her neck and tried to look at her shoulder. “Is it all healed?”

“You won’t even have a scar.” 

“Janet,” Sam said slowly, picking her T-shirt back up and pulling it over her head. “Why am I here?”

“Because you were injured and needed a safe place to stay.”

“I thought I’d at least get a straight answer from you.”

“Samantha, I understand your frustration.” 

Sam was startled when Selmak spoke and she couldn’t believe she had even forgotten briefly that this Janet Fraiser was also a Tok’ra.

“You are an intelligent woman. I would have thought that beyond the obvious reason of Colonel O’Neill’s emotional connection to you, you would have figured out that our reasons for bringing you here are probably not all that different than President Landry’s reasons for wanting to keep you at the SGC.”

Sam wasn’t all that surprised by Selmak’s admission, she supposed she would have been more surprised if they hadn’t wanted something from her. But that still didn’t make her situation any different. “All I want to do is go home.” 

“As do we all, Samantha. But we are all prisoners here as long as Landry is a Goa’uld.”

Fraiser’s eyes glowed and her brown eyes were apologetic. “Please don’t misunderstand Selmak, Sam. We know you want to go to your universe, but we’re losing the battle here. I’m sure the Colonel will do everything in his power to get you back home, but until then we could really use your help.”

Before Sam could respond to Janet’s plea, there was a brief knock on the door and then it swung open, revealing Sheppard. “He’s waiting.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Without even a perfunctory knock, Charles strode in, immediately taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. George bristled at the man’s familiarity, but didn’t say anything, merely closing down his laptop and looking levelly at the slightly smug face of the other man. His current office might not be as large and fancy as the one he’d been moved out of to make way for Landry, but it was still his office.

“The President would like an update on the list of he gave you.”

George opened a drawer and pulled out a manila folder. Opening it, he slid the top picture across the desk towards Charles. “Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, United States Air Force, retired.” The picture was a grainy surveillance photo, obviously taken some distance from the subject, and showed a grim faced, straggly haired man in a wheel chair being loaded into some type of transport van. 

“Mitchell was injured in the attack over Antarctica. He’s paralyzed and only leaves his apartment for his monthly medical appointments at the VA hospital. Neighbors say they haven’t noticed anything unusual and we know from Mitchell’s duty assignments that it’s unlikely he and Major Carter ever met. Given that, and his physical limitations, it’s unlikely he’d be able to provide Colonel Carter with any help.”

Charles frowned and shoved the picture back. “What about the others?”

“Doctor McKay is currently in Seattle on an overnight business trip, but according to his assistant, he’ll be returning tomorrow evening. We’re already prepared to meet him at his private airfield and have him escorted here upon his arrival.” 

“The President will be pleased. What about the other two?”

George looked at the second photo in the file. It was over three years old, but he remembered the day like it was yesterday. Janet Fraiser stood with her arm around her adopted daughter, Cassandra, at the girl’s high school graduation. Both women were smiling, the obvious pride Janet felt in her daughter lighting up her face. “Cassandra Fraiser hasn’t been seen in over a year. She registered for her junior year at Washington State University but never showed up for her classes.”

Charles reached across the desk and picked the picture up, his distaste obvious by the expression on his face. “She can’t have disappeared completely.”

“We’re working on tracking her down, but according to the latest intel we have, Cassandra Fraiser hasn’t been in Colorado Springs since she attended Major Carter’s wedding to Rodney McKay. It’s highly unlikely that Cassandra is in the area or in a position to help Colonel Carter.” 

“What about her mother?” Charles asked, tossing the picture down on the desk.

George looked down at the smiling face of the woman he had once considered to be one of the finest medical doctors—and officers—with whom he’d ever had the honor of serving. That she had been branded a collaborator and exiled from the SGC in a cloud of mystery and shame still puzzled him. He knew there was more to the story but he also accepted his position and had learned long ago not to question the orders that came out of the Oval Office. 

“This was videotaped three months ago.” Swiveling around in his chair, George pressed a button and an image appeared on the LCD monitor behind his desk. It was obviously a news story or documentary, the scene that of a busy medical clinic, the camera panning the large room filled with solemn faced people waiting patiently for help from the obviously busy medical personnel.

“Julia Donovan and a camera crew from Inside Access did a story on healthcare for the Colorado Springs homeless population.” He muted the sound and about two minutes into the clip froze the picture. “There, in the far right corner.”

Charles set up a little straighter in his chair and stared intently at the monitor. A petite, middle-aged woman, her reddish-brown hair pulled back in a pony tail and dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt with a stethoscope around her neck, was just visible in at the edge of the frame. “You say this was shot three months ago?”

Stifling the almost mute voice of his conscience, George nodded. “We pulled all video and anything we could find related to local healthcare for the past two years. And we found this.”

“Are you sure it’s her?” Charles voice held a note of suppressed excitement that George tried to ignore.

“We’re sending in a covert-ops team to the clinic tomorrow. If it is Janet Fraiser, we’ll know before the end of the day.”

“Good job, George.”

Hammond gritted his teeth at the man’s temerity; but kept his mouth shut and merely replied. “I’ll be sure to let the President know when we have her in custody.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack didn’t like what he was about to do, but he was a desperate man and desperate men oftentimes did things that kept them awake at night. She looked rested, though he could still see the faint shadows under her eyes—and the way they would momentarily soften when she looked at him. They all waited patiently; Sheppard looked too casual, slouched in his chair and Jack didn’t have to be a mind reader to know the other man thought he was ten kinds of insane to trust Sam. Hell, Jack thought wryly, maybe he was. 

Zelenka fidgeted with his battered laptop, muttering to himself in Czech while Fraiser sat quietly, no doubt carrying on an internal dialog with Selmak. And then there was Sam, looking uncertain in spite of the determination he could see in her face and her posture. He knew she didn’t have any reason to trust him, despite the tenuous bonds they might have forged during the night, but he hoped she did. 

“We need your help, Sam.”

She didn’t look surprised, probably because all anyone had done since she’d arrive was to ask for her help. 

“You know I’ll do whatever I can.”

Relief flooded through Jack with her answer…not that he had doubted her.

“You don’t know what we want,” Sheppard was quick to point out.

Jack saw the subtle change in Sam’s demeanor when she addressed Sheppard, a coldness that wasn’t evident whenever she spoke to him or the others. “I assume you want me to help you remove Landry from power.”

John sat up straighter, his dark eyes hard. “If by ‘remove’ you mean kill, then yes.”

“Camulus yes…but what about Hank Landry?” Sam looked around the table, her expression troubled. “Surely he’s an innocent victim in all of this?”

Selmak spoke then and everyone looked towards Fraiser. “Hank Landry’s motives remain unclear, Samantha. There is reason to believe he was a willing participant in his blending.”

“How can you know that?” Sam looked shocked and Jack didn’t blame her. Anyone who knew the Goa’uld as well as they did couldn’t imagine anyone willingly becoming a snakehead.

“Because I was there.” It was Sheppard who broke the silence, his voice grim, one hand rising in an unconscious gesture to trace the scar on his face.

“But I thought you were part of the fighter wing for the attack?”

“You must have me confused with someone else.” Sheppard shrugged, his mouth curving in a wry smile. “I was in DC when the attack happened, waiting for the hearing into my fitness to remain in the Air Force,” he replied, his voice bitter. “When word came through that Anubis had requested a ‘meeting’, General Maynard was ordered to produce a team to protect the president—an expendable team.”

“So he chose you…”

John sat back in his chair, adopting his usual casual and relaxed posed. “Me and three other suckers; all thrilled that we were being given a chance to redeem ourselves.”

Sam looked appalled. “What happened?”

“We were all waiting in the Oval Office. The four of us were stationed along the walls, waiting with Hayes and Landry. Anubis beamed in—”

“He didn’t appear as a hologram?”

John frowned. “No…he was definitely in human form.” He gave a short bark of laughter. “As human as he ever gets, I suppose. Anyway,” John continued, getting back to his story. “he was alone. Gave Hayes and Landry his terms of surrender. Hayes refused. Poor bastard never saw it coming, one minute he’s telling Anubis where he can shove his demands and the next thing, he was dead, slammed against the far wall like he was some kind of doll. Landry’s shouting and ducking for cover, the four of us jump Anubis. Perkins and Torrentino went down next. Anubis didn’t even break a sweat.”

“It gets a little fuzzy after that. Conrad was in front of me and the next thing I know, his body slams into mine and then we both hit the wall. I think Anubis thought I was dead, Conrad was and I was covered in blood.” His hand briefly touched his face again. “I must’ve had a concussion, because my head was ringing and I could barely focus, but I won’t ever forget what I saw next. Before Anubis could even open his mouth, Landry was cutting a deal. And Anubis agreed—with one stipulation.”

“That he take a host?” When Sheppard nodded, Sam looked even more skeptical. “So, he agreed to save his life. Maybe he thought he could control the symbiote.”

“He is zrádce.”

“I’m sorry?” 

Zelenka looked up from his laptop as if just realizing he’d spoken. “No, I am the one who is sorry. He is a traitor; he should have died for his country. Your sympathy is wasted on him.”

Sam seemed to consider her next words carefully, speaking slowly. “I’m just saying it might be a bit harsh to paint Landry with the same brush as Camulus.”

“Listen, Colonel,” Sheppard snarled, looking about ready to jump out of his chair. “Think what you like, but I know what I saw. Landry wanted power and Anubis offered him a fool-proof method for obtaining it.”

“Stand down, Major.” Jack jumped in before the situation deteriorated, recognizing the angry glint in Sam’s eyes as she glared at Sheppard. John looked like he wanted to say something, but finally sat back in the chair. Jack looked firmly at Sam then. “We haven’t given up on Landry, but our first priority is saving the planet.”

“We do what we can, Sam,” Fraiser said. “Using Tok’ra insurgency methods and guerilla tactics. But it isn’t enough.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Landry, or should I say Camulus, is too organized and has the power of the military behind him. For every advance we make against him, we lose more than we gain. The only way Earth can be free from Goa’uld control is to take Camulus out.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how I can help.”

He could see she still didn’t quite get her role. “Sam, we need you. We need whatever is in your brain that can give us an edge, something that Camulus and his goons won’t see coming.”

“Samantha,” Selmak spoke this time, “beyond your knowledge of the SGC, you have the life experiences our Major Carter never had, the experiences we never had, once Anubis conquered Earth.”

“I suppose….”

She didn’t sound too convinced, but Jack knew somewhere in that brain of hers was the advantage they desperately needed. “Sam, just humor me and go spend the day with Zelenka, see if there isn’t something, no matter how small or trivial, that might help us.”

She gave him a puzzled looked, but pushed back her chair when Zelenka closed his laptop and stood. Jack watched as they left the room, Zelenka’s voice carrying back to them. “I have obtained access to some of the most privileged databases in the country, I’m sure we’ll….”

Fraiser stood then. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have work to do.” 

Jack nodded absently as Fraiser left, which left only Sheppard.

“It’s a long shot, Jack,” Sheppard said.

“You said yourself she might be the advantage we need.”

“Let’s hope I was right then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let me bring up that last schematic again.”

Sam sighed and rubbed her eyes, the lines of the diagram on the computer monitor wiggling and running together. God, she had a headache and to top it off, her shoulder had started to remind her she had been hit with a staff weapon blast just a few days earlier. She just didn’t think she could look at one more blue print or purchase requisition.

“Look,” she finally said to Zelenka. “I think it’s pretty safe to say that there isn’t anything in these files that your Major Carter didn’t know.” She stifled a yawn and cautiously stretched, wary of the uncomfortable pull in her shoulder. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything here.” The last three hours had been a bust, nothing in the scavenged files or disks had given her any kind of clue into what kind of woman this world’s Sam Carter had become. 

Zelenka didn’t look at all perturbed. “There is more.”

She sighed again, rubbed tiredly at her eyes, and turned back to the computer.

“Not there,” he replied cryptically. Sam swiveled slowly on the stool, following his progress as he opened the door on a battered metal cupboard. She was starting to feel that sinking sense of hopelessness again…or maybe she was just hungry. It had to be almost lunchtime, breakfast had consisted of a cup of coffee and some toast which probably explained the hollow feeling in her stomach. 

“What’s that?” she asked, standing up when Zelenka carried the box he’d gotten out of the cupboard over to the work table.

Radek paused in lifting the flaps, giving her a sideways look over his glasses. “Lorne was asked to clean out her locker.” He pushed the now open box towards her. “It will go to her next of kin…eventually.”

The hollow feeling in her stomach suddenly had nothing to do with her lack of food. She frowned slightly, staring blankly at the contents of the box briefly before looking back at Radek. “They just let him walk out of there with all this?”

Zelenka shrugged. “He is the leader of SG1.”

“Right.” Sam wasn’t sure why the prospect of going through the dead woman’s belongings gave her the creeps, but it did. Resting right on top was a beautiful peach colored blouse. Sam picked it up, the silky fabric lush and soft. Peeking at the tag, she saw a well-known high-end designer name and her suspicions that the blouse was pure silk verified. Evidently this world’s Sam Carter had expensive tastes—and the money to indulge them. Setting the blouse aside, she lifted out an equally expensive and elegant pair of tailored gray slacks. A glove leather soft pair of Cole-Haan black mules was next and Sam had to force herself to remember she had no reason to be jealous of the dead. 

“Do you know the name of her Goa’uld?” she asked curiously.

The answer came from the doorway. “Adsullata.”

Startled, she turned and saw Jack standing there. His lips quirked in a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A minor Celtic sun goddess,” he clarified. “Keeping with the whole Celtic warrior thing Camulus has going.” He stepped further into the room. “Find anything interesting?”

“Nothing so far, Colonel,” Zelenka answered.

“What’s in the box?” Jack asked next, gesturing towards the box.

“It’s the contents of Major Carter’s locker.” Radek’s voice was matter-of-fact, but Sam had no trouble in feeling the sudden tension that filled the small room.

“Ah.” 

There was a wealth of sadness in that one statement and Sam felt his pain as if it were her own. Tearing her eyes away from him, she carefully folded up the expensive clothing and set it aside. The next item she pulled out of the box was a familiar looking blue floral cosmetic bag. Sam knew what would be in it even before she unzipped it—the few items of make-up she considered necessary—in a much more expensive brand, she noted wryly; some equally expensive moisturizer and an extra bar of the soap she liked. Nothing too dangerous there, she decided, setting it aside. 

Jack was standing so close her arm brushed against his, the usual tingle of awareness rushed through her and she sighed softly, wondering if there was any point in trying to ignore the way he made her feel. Forcing her wandering attention back to the box, she pulled out a brush and blow dryer that were equally as uninteresting as the make-up, given that she had the same style in her locker at the SGC. 

“What’s that?” he asked, both of them looking at the last item in the box.

“’That’ was something she didn’t recognize—a legal-size expandable file. Dull brown and obviously well-used, the edges of the flap were dog eared and worn, the whole thing held together with some twine that had been used to replace the tattered elastic cord, the remaining bits still hanging from the plastic button on the front. Lifting it out, she knew even before she opened it that it was jammed full, and she was right. 

The file was an alphabetical one, crammed with papers. She looked at Zelenka and then Jack. “This is going to take a while.” Pushing the box aside, she started to pull out the papers filed under ‘A’ when they were plucked them out of her hand.

“Plenty of time for that after lunch,” Jack said, stuffing them back in the file. 

Bristling at his high-handed approach, Sam protested. “These are obviously her personal papers, Jack. The sooner I go through them—”

“It’s been hours since you had breakfast,” he said, placing the file back in the box, along with the rest of the items. He picked up the box and when she looked at him, all she could see was concern in his eyes. “There’ll be plenty of time to go through the file and eat lunch.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, softening the ‘sir’ with a tender smile. She was vaguely aware of Radek clearing his throat.

“I’ll take care of Colonel Carter now,” Jack said to the scientist. 

Sam ignored the uneasy fluttering in her stomach when Radek looked at her with faintly troubled eyes. “Thanks for your help,” she told him, giving him a cheerful smile before following Jack out into the hallway. 

“Dej pozor, Colonel.” Radek’s voice carried out into the hallway after them.

“What did he say?” she asked Jack, glancing over her shoulder to find Zelenka watching them, that faint frown still on his face.

“Be careful.”

“Ah,” she murmured, falling into step with him and wondering for which ‘colonel’ the warning was meant. Sam was familiar enough with the layout of the compound now that she knew when Jack bypassed the turn-off that led to the dining room and they started down the now familiar route to his private quarters. The uneasy feeling in her stomach increased the closer they got to his quarters and she wondered which one of them was being presumptuous regarding their ‘relationship’. 

Holding the box with one arm, he opened the door for her, a slight smile playing on his lips as she stepped past him into the room. Once inside, she stood uncertainly near the door and watched while Jack set the box down on the coffee table. “I had Cynthia bring your lunch here,” he said, gesturing towards the small table where they’d had dinner the night before. A tray containing several sandwiches, some fruit and a bottle of water rested there. 

She took a few more steps into the room, annoyed with herself and the uncertainty that seemed to fill her every time she was around him now. Wandering over to the table, she opened up the bottle of water and took a drink; watching as he gathered some folders off his desk. He glanced over at her. “Go ahead,” he said, smiling.

“Are you going to join me?” she asked, finally sitting down. The sandwiches looked delicious—some kind of chicken salad maybe and a second one that looked like ham and cheese.

“No,” he answered. “I’ve already eaten, but you go ahead. And then you can work in here the rest of the afternoon.”

“I see,” she muttered, and much to her continued annoyance, disappointment washed through her. She really needed to remember her position here and ultimate goal, she decided irritably, picking up the napkin next to the plate and placing it in her lap. 

She watched Jack for a moment longer wondering if she could understand this version any better than she understood her own when he suddenly seemed to be finished at the desk and crossed the room towards her. Before she realized what he intended, his hand was warm on her shoulder and his lips soft against her cheek in a brief caress. “You think too much,” he whispered. And then he left.

The door shut with a hollow thud and Sam sat at the small table, staring down at the sandwiches. No, she realized with sudden clarity that brought a rueful smile to her face as she picked up the ham sandwich and took a bite, it wasn’t that she didn’t understand him, it was in fact the exact opposite—she understood them both all too well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was long and tedious, going through every scrap of paper in the large file, but Sam was determined. She sat on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa, whole sheets and partial pieces of paper laid out on the table in front of her, sorted into like piles. She had been on the verge of giving up when she’d realized there was a subtle pattern developing. Invoices, travel itineraries, receipts and handwritten notes in a script that wasn’t quite her own, all indicating that Major Samantha Carter had been hiding something. From whom, she wasn’t sure, but her first guess would be Landry. 

As to the why, well…she shook her head and placed another travel itinerary in the growing stack of papers to her left, if she was right, the answer was almost too fantastic to be true, but then Sam had discovered a long time ago that real life was always stranger than fiction. And if her suspicions were correct, then she had just found the edge they needed to defeat Camulus. Pulling the almost empty file into her lap, she frowned slightly. The thing was almost empty, but it still felt unusually heavy. She hadn’t noticed before, too intent on sorting out all the various papers crammed into the dividers, but there was something firmer than paper tucked in the XYZ pocket. 

Not sure what she expected to find, Sam was mildly disappointed when all she found was a standard Steno pad. Her disappointment faded though when she flipped through the pages and found them covered in writing—in Goa’uld. Intrigued, she started reading—and immediately wished Daniel or Teal’c were around to help translate—but as best she could tell, it looked like the notepad was some kind of journal. 

Scanning the pages for familiar words, she found the ones she was hoping for about mid-way through the journal. It was frustrating though, even with her suspicions about what Adsullata had been up to, her knowledge of Goa’uld just wasn’t up to the task. But, she remembered belatedly, even without Daniel or Teal’c, there was someone around who could easily translate the journal. Gathering up the various papers that confirmed her theory, Sam put them and the steno pad back into the file. She’d go find Janet and get Selmak’s help.

Tucking the file under her arm, she cautiously opened the door leading out of Jack’s quarters, remembering her experience earlier that day, and was surprised to find no one waiting for her. It seemed…unusual, especially given Sheppard’s general distrust of her, but she wasn’t going to question it, she knew her way to the infirmary. Sam started down the hallway and turned left at the main corridor. When she came to the first intersecting corridor, she didn’t hesitate, turning down the now familiar hallway that led to the infirmary. 

Ignoring the doors that she knew led to exam rooms, she headed straight for the suite of offices. Jordan stood by one of the many cabinets in the room, a bottle of something held poised in her hand, halfway between the counter and the open cupboard. “Jordan,” Sam said. “Where’s Doctor Fraiser?”

Jordan put the bottle away, shutting the cupboard door. “Where she usually is on Tuesday’s; at the free clinic over on El Dorado.”

“When will she be back?” she asked, failing to keep the impatience out of her voice.

Jordan raised an eyebrow, but before she could open her mouth with what was probably going to be a smart retort, there was the sound of running feet and a very pale-looking Dawes skidded around the corner towards them. “The Colonel,” he gasped, “wants everyone in the dining hall—now.”

“What is it?” Sam asked, immediately following after the young man.

“Dawes,” Jordan demanded, “just what the hell is going on?”

Dawes was visibly shaken and Sam felt sorry for the young man—and wondered what could have happened in this already messed up world that would have brought on this reaction. He didn’t even stop. “I just…” he looked over his shoulder at them, his face stricken. “It’s…I don’t know. You have to see for yourself.”

Feeling fear and anxiety twisting in her gut, Sam hurried after Dawes, a subdued Jordan hot on her heels. 

There was already a large group of people in the dining hall, gathered around the television that was suspended from the ceiling. Sam, along with Jordan and Dawes, crowded into the room. Sam spotted Jack immediately, his silver hair standing out in the group at the front, Sheppard right beside him. Everyone seemed focused on the television where it looked like there was some kind of news report being broadcast.

“This is Brittany Morrison reporting live with an update from the El Dorado Street Peoples Clinic, where only a few short hours ago an elite military squad captured one of the nation’s most wanted terrorists.”

Sam gasped then, along with the entire room, when a picture of Janet Fraiser flashed on the screen. The reporter kept talking.

“We have just been informed that Doctor Janet Fraiser, wanted on charges of terrorism and high treason, was captured earlier today as she arrived at the clinic. Clinic employees and patients alike were shocked to discover that the reportedly well-liked and respected physician was actually a former Air Force officer who has been on the run from Home World Security for two years. Doctor Fraiser is accused of collaborating with the Ori and other crimes against the state. She is also wanted for questioning in the recent disappearance of Major Samantha Carter, who was instrumental in our recent victory over the Ori and President Landry himself has vowed to do all in his power to bring those responsible to justice. ”

“That’s a load of bullshit!” Jordan cried out, clearly outraged. The entire room erupted then, drowning out the reporter, who continued to talk.

“People! People!” John Sheppard’s voice finally penetrated the crowd and everyone quieted down. He reached up and pressed a button on the television, muting the sound. “Let’s hear what the Colonel has to say.” 

Jack’s face was grim and he looked utterly exhausted, but his voice was strong. “We know every time we set foot out of this compound we put our lives at risk. They know we’re getting close.” He gestured towards the television. “This is the act of a desperate man. Landry knows Samantha Carter can help us and he’s afraid. We all know Janet Fraiser and Selmak will never betray us or our cause. But it’s up to us now to finish what we’ve started and free our country from the Goa’uld.”

“What about Doctor Fraiser?” 

Sam thought she recognized the voice as belonging to Cynthia and she expected to hear the ‘never leave anyone behind’ speech from Jack. But instead, he looked even grimmer.

“Sometimes sacrifices have to be made….” His gaze moved steadily around the room, his eyes dark and serious. “But I assure you, if it is at all possible, we will do all we can to get Fraiser back.”

The low murmur in the room rose momentarily but soon subsided and Sam saw the reluctant acceptance of Jack’s words on everyone’s faces.

“Okay, people,” Sheppard said. “We all have work to do.”

Sam stood back out the way while the room emptied, Jordan and Dawes disappearing into the crowd. She saw the curious looks people gave her as they went by and she wondered if they held her responsible for what had happened. It wasn’t a coincidence that Fraiser’s abduction had happened so soon after her arrival. Sam hugged the expandable file to her chest, suddenly feeling very alone.

Still clutching the precious file, Sam waited by the door for Jack and Sheppard; some of the isolation she felt lifted when Jack smiled faintly, his dark gaze softening slightly. “Sam.” He seemed surprised to see her. “What are you doing in here?”

“By yourself,” Sheppard added.

She ignored Sheppard and spoke directly to Jack. “I think I’ve found something.”

“Good.” It was just one word, but it held a wealth of meaning and Sam felt the usual rush of pleasure with his praise. “We’ll go to my office.” Sam followed after Jack, ignoring Sheppard’s sardonic smile when with a sweeping movement of his arm, he gestured for her to precede him. 

Jack was tired, she noticed, his limp more pronounced, and her heart ached for the extra burden he now carried with Janet’s capture. Not that he would ever let it show, but she could tell—and given the somber look on Sheppard’s face—so could he. And here she was, one more burden, complete with a wild plan based on pure speculation from a few cryptic journal entries, vague invoices and travel itineraries. They passed the conference room without stopping and she realized they were going deeper into the complex. She heard the occasional murmur of voices and the distant sound of footsteps, but the hallways remained eerily empty. 

When the finally reached his office, she acknowledged she had gotten totally turned around, however she wasn’t going to worry about that right now—Sheppard would undoubtedly make sure she got back to her room. Stepping through the open door, she only had time for quick impression of austerity when she realized someone was already in his office; a familiar figure promptly stood up.

“Sir,” Major Lorne said.

“Lorne.” Jack limped over to his desk. “I believe you’ve already met Colonel Carter?”

“Sam. Glad to see you’re safe.” His smile was genuine and she smiled back.

Jack sat down at his desk and Sam took his cue, sitting at one of the chairs in front of the desk, Lorne taking the other; Sheppard remained in the background, the couch creaking in protest as he sat down. 

“What brings you down here, Lorne?” Jack asked. “We weren’t expecting to see you again so soon.” 

“It’s about Doctor Fraiser, sir.”

“We know she’s been abducted, Major,” Sheppard commented, his voice sharp.

“That’s why I’m here. She’s at the SGC.”

Sam couldn’t tell if Jack was surprised or not, his expression remained neutral except for the subtle tightening of his mouth. 

“Landry’s got a list of people he thinks Colonel Carter may contact for help,” Lorne continued, “and he’s having Hammond bring them in.”

Sam looked at Lorne in alarm. “A list? Who’s on it?”

“Doctor Lee, Fraiser, Cassandra Fraiser.”

Sam made a soft sound of distress at the mention of Cassie’s name, but Lorne kept on right on talking.

“Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell and Rodney McKay.”

“They’ve all been brought in for questioning?” 

“Mitchell was determined to not be a threat and Lee didn’t know anything that could link him to your disappearance.” Lorne paused, a slight frown on his face and Sam wondered what they had done to Bill Lee to make that determination. “Cassandra Fraiser has fallen off the grid, she hasn’t been seen in over two years and none of Landry’s resources can find any leads on her. They brought Fraiser in this afternoon and they’re going to pick up McKay tonight after he gets back from a business trip.”

“Does Janet know where Cassie is?” Sam asked, directing her question to O’Neill.

Jack nodded, his expression thoughtful. “How’d they find her?” he asked Lorne.

“A fluke, she was caught on some news footage at that health clinic about three months ago. I’ve got to hand it to Hammond,” Lorne said, admiration in his voice. “The man has great instincts.” Sheppard snorted and Sam wondered how Hammond could have remained at the SGC, just another manifestation of the sometimes massive differences between their two universes. 

“Landry must know he won’t get any information out of Fraiser,” Jack added. “No one can connect us with Sam’s disappearance, he’s just shaking the tree, seeing who or what is going to fall out.”

“What about McKay?” Sheppard asked, from behind them. “She was married to him.”

Sam couldn’t help but notice the not-so-subtle emphasis on the ‘she’. Turning around in her chair, she glared at Sheppard. “Your Carter was married to McKay.” His casual shrug only served to annoy her more, but before she could reply, Jack interrupted.

“Sam, it’s okay. It’s still possible that McKay would know something of her habits that might lead them to find you. After all, that’s exactly what I did.”

She was impressed; she hadn’t gotten around to asking Jack how they had found her, but she wasn’t surprised that he had been the one to figure out what she would do and where she would go. She wondered if McKay had known his wife that well or if Adsullata had played him for a fool. 

“Have they questioned her yet?” Jack asked.

Lorne shook his head. “Landry’s given strict orders that he’s to be the only one to talk to her. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was scared of her.”

“Or what she knows,” Sheppard commented.

“We need to get to McKay before they do,” Sam said, her voice urgent. If her suspicious about Adsullata were correct, they were going to need to Rodney. 

“You said you’d found something, Colonel?” 

Sam ignored the slightly mocking tone of Sheppard’s voice and spoke directly to Jack, her eyes never leaving his face. “I went through that file and I think Adsullata was plotting against Camulus.”

“Plotting against Camulus?” Sheppard asked, his voice oozing with disbelief. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous,” she snapped, sparing only a brief glance at Sheppard before she once more looked at Jack. “What is the one thing all Goa’uld have in common?”

“Besides their over-the-top behavior and bad fashion sense?”

She mostly succeeded in suppressing her smile. “Sir,” she said, just the faintest tone of censure in her voice, along with the not-so-subtle reminder of his role.

“Right,” he said, once more serious. “A Goa'uld will never lose his—or her—thirst for power.” Jack sat back in his chair, tapping a pencil on the desk, and she waited for him. “So you think she was plotting to overthrow Camulus?”

“I think so. According to papers I’ve found in her files, she’s been systematically diverting all kinds of items, from artifacts to weapons, from the SGC. She also received a huge fortune from McKay as part of their divorce settlement. And she has…well, had an Al'Kash that she kept secret from everyone, as far as I can tell.”

Jack didn’t look at all surprised by her explanation and she heard the couch creak when Sheppard shifted position. “So she was stealing stuff from the SGC and she had a healthy bank account. How does that—and this hypothetical Al’Kash help us?” Sheppard asked. 

“It will help us find and board the Hatak Camulus has in orbit.”

“The Hatak Camulus has in orbit?” Sheppard squawked. Lorne didn’t say anything and Jack looked intrigued.

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’m pretty sure it’s mentioned in Adsullata’s journal.” Jack raised an eyebrow and she elaborated. “I found it in that file. My Goa’uld is a bit rusty—which is why I was looking for Janet—but I think my translation is fairly accurate. Adsullata has an Al’Kash stashed somewhere and we can use it to gain access to Camulus’ Hatak.”

“And then?” Sheppard again.

“And then we have a lot more options at our disposal than we do now,” Jack replied.

“Why haven’t we detected the Hatak in orbit?” Lorne asked. “Or the Russians or the Chinese, for that matter?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s probably shielded. We know Anubis has access to Goa’uld technology. Camulus has probably had it here ever since the invasion.”

“But where did Adsullata get an Al’Kash?”

“Osiris,” Jack said almost immediately and then looked at her. “Right?”

“I’m assuming it’s the Al’Kash Osiris left in orbit.”

“That still doesn’t explain how Adsullata acquired it,” Lorne pointed out.

Sam squirmed a little in the chair and Jack raised an eyebrow. “Sam?”

“McKay gave it to Samantha Carter as a wedding present.”

“What?” The sofa creaked when Sheppard stood and he towered over her, his disbelief obvious. “Are you telling me that somehow Rodney McKay got his hands on a major piece of alien technology and gave it to his wife as a wedding present?”

“He bought it at a government auction,” she explained. Sam didn’t mind that the look Jack gave her, and one from Lorne, were equally skeptical, it was fairly amazing. She shrugged, opening the bulky file and pulling out the invoice that had led to her speculation. “I found this invoice for the contents of a government warehouse—purchased sight unseen—by one of McKay’s holding corporations not long after Landry took power.”

Sheppard rested a hip against Jack’s desk and folded his arms across his chest, his expression thoughtful; but it was Lorne who spoke. “Landry did liquidate a lot of government holdings after he took power.” 

“All right,” Sheppard finally said. “I’m not saying I believe any of this, but if I did, where would I find this Al’Kash?”

“Rodney McKay still has it. Oh,” Sam added, at their continued doubtful looks. “He doesn’t know he has it. But that’s why we need to get to him before Landry does. We’re going to need him to find it.” She didn’t mention that she was going to eventually need Rodney McKay to help her get home; she’d made a promise to Jack and she’d keep it.

“What about Fraiser?” Sheppard demanded.

“Is she safe for now?” Jack turned to Lorne.

“Hammond won’t let anything happen to her.” Lorne sounded confident and Sam hoped he was right.

“Tell us how they plan to pick up McKay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Janet Fraiser sat in the hard metal chair, her folded hands resting on the table in front her. She hadn’t seen anyone or spoken to anyone since she’d been unceremoniously tossed into the holding cell hours earlier. _“We have been in worse situations,”_ Selmak reminded her. 

She closed her eyes briefly, welcoming the bolster of support from Selmak. _“We shouldn’t be in this one.”_

_“I am surprised Camulus is going to this much trouble to find Samantha Carter. She will be nothing but trouble for him.”_

Janet would have laughed if their situation wasn’t so serious. _“You’re probably right,”_ she agreed. _“But I imagine it’s more a matter of pride for him now.”_

_“Pride or not, Camulus desires to be taken seriously as a System Lord. It is likely he sees Colonel Carter and the knowledge she possesses from her universe as a great asset in his quest to accomplish that desire.”_

_“You won’t get any argument from me.”_ Janet’s lips twitched in a slight smile at Selmak’s chuckle; the smile fading when she heard the door behind her suddenly open. She didn’t turn around, merely waited calmly and let Selmak take control. 

“Tok’ra, kree!”

“I believe you already know the answer to that…request,” Selmak replied, her voice dry.

Landry/Camulus loomed in front of her, gripping the edges of the table, his eyes flashing, his breath hot and heavy in her face. She forced herself not to recoil at his presence, noting idly that he’d had garlic for lunch. “Don’t toy with me, doctor. You were Samantha Carter’s best friend. If she goes to anyone for help, it will be you.”

“You are assuming that events in her universe played out the same as in ours,” Selmak retorted sharply. “And as you already well know, if I did know the location of Samantha Carter, I would not tell you.” 

Camulus growled with frustration; he threw his arms up and stepped back from the table. Selmak allowed herself a slight smile as he started pacing the small room. However, she tensed slightly when Camulus abruptly walked behind her and stopped, his hands resting heavily on her shoulders. “We’ll have your daughter soon, doctor,” he said softly, his breath hot against her neck.

“My daughter is dead. But by all means, waste your time searching for her.” His hands tightened, squeezing painfully, but Selmak continued. “What is the matter Camulus? I thought with the Ori threat neutralized, you would have gained what you wanted. But it is not as easy as that, is it? The Tau’ri will not bow so easily to a Goa’uld—even one who remains hidden, like a coward.”

He growled again, roughly pushing her head down onto the table and holding her there, pressing her cheek into the cold metal. Selmak gritted her teeth and waited for him to speak. “I will have your knowledge, Tok’ra, or I will kill you.”

“Then kill me.”

“Arrgghhh!” Camulus released her and she slowly sat up, smoothing her hair back into place. The clearly upset Goa’uld started pacing again. 

Selmak folded her hands carefully in front of her again and watched him for a moment. It might be dangerous to provoke the lion in its lair, but she really didn’t care. “Perhaps it is not the Ori whom you fear but Anubis? You must be quite a disappointment to him, after all he went through to conquer Earth.” Selmak thought for a minute she’d pushed Camulus too far, his face turned bright red with anger, his hands clenched into tight fists at his side.

“I will have your knowledge, Tok’ra. One way or another.” Camulus stormed out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Selmak sagged a bit in the chair, before once more sitting up straight—ever aware of the security camera—her hands kept folded quietly on the table.

_“He is displeased.”_

_“Ya’ think?”_ Janet replied smartly. And then added, her voice filled with concern. _“You don’t think he really knows where Cassandra is, do you?”_

_“Since I am the only one aware of her location and will never reveal it, then no, I do not believe he has any chance of finding her.”_

Janet sighed. _“What about Sam?”_

_“O’Neill will not let anything happen to her.”_

Janet chuckled softly. _“Of that, I have no doubt.”_ She sighed again, feeling very tired and very old. _“What do you suppose will happen next, old friend?”_

The door opened behind her. _“I believe we are about to find out.”_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John didn’t like any of this. He didn’t like sitting out in the open at the small—and supposedly abandoned—airfield. It seemed unnaturally dark, no outdoor lights were on, the dark bulk of deserted hangers and buildings fading into the night, the light from the waning full moon casting ghostly shadows around the buildings. The few roads around the base on the far outskirts of the sprawling city were dark as well, the infrequent street lights out in what was probably an effort to conserve energy. But he still felt exposed, the van tucked into a copse of scraggly cottonwoods. 

When he heard Sam’s soft laugh from the back of the van and O’Neill’s low pitched reply, he frowned, picking up the binoculars and once more scanning the deserted airfield. He didn’t like that Samantha Carter and Jack O’Neill were making themselves nice and cozy in the back of his van. And he didn’t like that the other half of their special ops ‘team’—Torres, Fabares and Dawes—were at the private airfield where Rodney McKay’s jet was due to land in thirty minutes, waiting as back-up in case their plain didn’t go as expected. 

“Should we have heard from them by now?” O’Neill asked from behind his shoulder.

Sheppard grunted and looked at his watched; saved from answering when Zelenka, sitting in the passenger seat with his eyes glued to the notebook computer in his lap spoke. “I have them on the radar.” He looked up then, a slight smile on his face. “You should be able to call him.”

Grabbing the newly purchased and totally disposable cell phone from the center console, Sheppard swiveled on his seat and handed it to Samantha Carter. “You’re on. I just hope to hell he has his cell phone on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, and Holly,” Rodney McKay added. “My niece’s birthday is next week. You’ll need to find something suitable for…let me see—” He stopped speaking and flipped through his PDA. “Yes, you’ll need to find something suitable for a seven year old.” He paused then, looking briefly out the window of his private jet at the lights of Colorado Springs spread out ahead of him. “Gosh, hard to believe she’s that old already. Anyway,” he continued his message to his secretary, hurriedly finishing when his phone beeped that he had an incoming call. “I’ll be into the office at the usual time.”

Pushing a button on his phone, the incoming call clicked in. “McKay.”

“Rodney? It’s Sam.”

“Sam?” He frowned at the sound of the female voice, looking more closely at the number displayed on the screen. “I don’t know any—”

“McKay,” the woman’s voice said, sounding aggravated. “It’s me, Samantha Carter.”

His eyes popped open and his heart started beating faster, but he kept his cool. “Oh really,” he drawled, thankful when his voice didn’t come out a squeak. “Would this be Samantha Carter my ex-wife or Colonel Samantha Carter, the new darling of Washington?”

“McKay, just shut up and listen. We don’t have much time.”

“You can’t tell me—” 

“Landry has sent some of his special agents to the air field,” she continued as if he hadn’t even spoken. “He intends to bring you in for questioning.”

“Well, let him,” Rodney said, shifting on the soft leather seat and peering more closely out the window, seeing nothing but the approaching lights of the city. “I don’t have anything to hide. I have my sources, you know. I know what happened at Stargate Command and all about the ‘supposed’ accident.” He’d been played for a chump one too many times to fall so easily. “How do I know you’re really an alternate Sam Carter?”

“How many people know you studied to be a pianist?”

“Well,” he blustered, totally caught off guard. “A few,” he finally stammered. She had surprised him—and she had him interested; he didn’t think he’d ever told the Samantha Carter who had been his wife that particular bit of information from his past.

“Dammit, Rodney. I don’t have time for this—we don’t have time for this. If you have any feelings for me at all, you’ll trust me and do as I say.”

“Which is what?” She sounded sincere and desperate, and even through the jumble of confused feelings of love and hate he felt for the woman who had been his wife, he wanted to believe her. And besides, he realized with an inaudible sigh, he’d never been able to resist her for too long.

“Tell your pilot to divert to the abandoned airfield at Schriever Air Force Base. Once you’ve landed, we’ll tell you what do.”

“Sam?” Rodney rallied briefly. “Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

“Because you loved me once.” And the connection went dead.

Rodney thrummed his fingers against the arm rest. He’d heard stories about what happened to people who were brought in by Landry’s special agents, none of which were good, and most of them were never heard from again. And while his feelings for Sam Carter were mixed at best, right now she seemed the lesser of two evils. He pressed the button for the intercom. “Harris? We’re going to land some place else tonight.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Because he loved you once?” Jack asked, his expression one of amused disbelief.

Sam sighed softly. “It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment.”

Sheppard snorted. “Why change a tried and true formula?”

Sam frowned and would have said something, except Jack placed his hand on her arm and shook his head. “We’ll know soon enough if it worked,” was all he said to Sheppard. “Come on,” Jack said, turning to her. 

She followed him out of the back door of the van, an annoyed-looking Sheppard joining them where they stood sheltered by the small copse of trees on the far side of the base’s runways. Zelenka silently slipped up behind them, his ever-present laptop stashed into a camouflage messenger bag. Fortunately, the light from the moon provided enough illumination that they didn’t need to use flashlights. 

“There,” Jack said, handing her the binoculars.

Taking them, she looked through the high-powered lenses towards the southwest, the lights of an approaching plane twinkled at her. 

“Let’s hope that’s McKay’s plane,” Sheppard commented.

“It will be. It has to be,” Sam murmured. Handing the binoculars back to Jack, she stepped closer to him; he slipped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him, enjoying the unexpected closeness. If she was right about the Al’Kash and the Hatak, she was at least halfway home. 

Resting her head against Jack’s shoulder she watched as the lights of the plane drew closer. Of course, they still had to regain control of the SGC and capture Landry in the process, but those particular tasks didn’t seem quite as insurmountable now; which didn’t quite explain the almost imperceptible melancholy attaching itself to her eagerness to go home. She had known it would mess with her head and she had still ignored what little sense she had that had screamed at her not to become involved with him. She wasn’t losing Jack when she left here—she still had him, back at home, back in her universe. 

So why did she feel this slowly looming sense of loss at the thought of leaving **this** Jack? It made no sense and now, with the dull roar of the jets engines drawing closer, was not the time to go all introspective. There was still a lot to do before she’d be able to leave and too much of it depended on some pretty big unknown variables, the first one being Rodney McKay. Oh, she knew the McKay from her universe pretty well, but back there he was just an annoying and arrogant physicist, here he was a multi-millionaire industrialist, who had been married to this world’s Samantha Carter. She shuddered slightly at the thought and felt Jack’s arm tighten around her in automatic response. 

Sam watched the plane draw closer, frowning when instead of landing, it merely seemed to be circling the airfield. “What’s he doing?” she asked.

Sheppard was looking through his binoculars. “Pilot’s doing a visual of the airfield,” he answered. 

“No lights,” Jack supplied.

She hadn’t thought of that. “Will they be able to land?”

“Depends on how good the pilot is.” Sheppard shrugged, briefly lowering the binoculars and glancing at her. “Runway’s clear, looks to be intact and hasn’t been overgrown with too many weeds. And it’s long.” 

“Right.” She should have known that, she did know that…she needed to stop thinking about Jack and focus on the mission. And she hoped, watching as the lights of the plane drew closer, that Rodney had a good pilot. 

He did have a very good pilot when less than five minutes later the small jet sailed to a smooth landing on the runway just a few dozen yards from where they stood. Before it had even rolled to a stop, the four of them started running across the tarmac, Sheppard in the lead. Sam jogged after him, careful to keep pace with Jack, who despite his injured leg, moved at a good clip, Zelenka trotting along on his other side. By the time they reached the plane, it had come to a standstill, the engines still running.

The jet’s side door slowly lowered and a man’s figure appeared silhouetted at the top. “Sam?”

Sam looked briefly at Jack and when he nodded, she stepped around Sheppard and started up the stairs. “It’s me, Rodney,” she answered, smiling brightly. McKay looked stunned—or liked he’d seen a ghost—and meekly stepped back out of the way when she reached the top.

“Hey, wait!” he said, belatedly when Sheppard, Jack and Zelenka crowded into the interior of the jet after her. He turned and glared at her, his hands on his hips. “You didn’t say anything about anyone else.”

“Its okay, Rodney,” she said, laying her hand lightly on his arm and drawing him down the aisle. “They’re with me.” She kept the smile plastered on her face, watching over his shoulder while Sheppard made his way to the cockpit. 

“Sam?” McKay asked, his eyes roving over her body, his normal arrogance gone. “Is it really you?”

Taking hold of one of his hands, she smiled gently. “I am Samantha Carter,” she answered. “Just not the one from your universe.”

He seemed to deflate a bit, but then he summoned a slight smile. “Well, I guess you haven’t come to ask me to take you back then?”

“No,” she said, barely managing to stop rolling her eyes. It seemed like some characteristics were universal beyond time and space. 

“Ah well, your loss,” he retorted smartly, taking a few steps towards her, only to frown and stop when there was a slight commotion at the front of the plane.

“Hey! Harris!” Rodney turned and yelled at his pilot, who had just vanished down the stairs. “What the hell is going on?” 

Sheppard and Jack both ignored him, the former disappearing into the cockpit while Jack finished securing the door. Sam grabbed hold of his arm before he could get any farther and tugged on it hard. That obstinate look she hated appeared on his face and he seemed to plant himself firmly in the middle of the aisle. It didn’t stop Zelenka however, from squeezing past him and taking a seat, nor did it slow Sheppard down, the plane suddenly starting to taxi. 

Sam pulled a little harder on his arm and he staggered a bit with the movement of the plane, finally following her. “We can’t stay here, Rodney,” she said, guiding him to one of the seats. “We’ll be safer in the air for the time being.”

She tossed the cell phone to Jack, who deftly caught it, and then she sat down next to Rodney. He was starting to get that shell-shocked look and Sam wondered how long she’d be able to take advantage of his confusion. “Rodney—” 

“Who’s he calling?” he asked. 

Sam looked back over her shoulder, Jack was talking on the cell phone. “Oh, he’s just letting our people know that we have you.” He was also telling them they could come pick up the van, but she didn’t tell McKay that.

“Oh, so you have ‘people’?” he asked, a tiny bit of his normal arrogance reentering his voice.

She nodded, sitting back in the comfortable seat and starting to relax when she felt the plane lift off the ground. “A few.”

“Who’s the old guy?”

Sam’s lips twitched in a slight smile. “Jack O’Neill, used to be in the Air Force.” She turned around again and looked over her shoulder, Zelenka sat buckled into one of the seats near the front of the plane, his head once more bent low over his notebook. “The other man? That’s Radek Zelenka, a brilliant scientist.” She looked back at McKay. “You may have heard of him?”

“Um…no, don’t think so.” McKay seemed to be getting back to his normal self. “So, who’s flying my plane?”

“John Sheppard, used—”

“—to be in the Air Force,” Rodney finished for her. “I think I see a pattern here.” McKay sat back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “So, what does Samantha Carter and her band of merry men need with me?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Placing a hand on the back of the pilot’s seat to brace himself, Jack looked over Sheppard’s shoulder, feeling the tug of their take-off, the lights of the city spread out before them. “How much fuel do we have?” Sheppard’s hands moved easily over the controls, as if it hadn’t been months since he’d flown a plane and Jack envied him for a moment. Jack waited while Sheppard’s eyes flew over the various gauges and dials. 

“Depends on where we have to go,” he finally replied, the plane leveling off and gliding effortlessly over Pikes Peak.

Jack grunted and twisted around, looking through the open cockpit door. He could see Sam talking, her voice carrying faintly to him, punctuated periodically by the occasional pained sounding exclamation from McKay. “I’ll go see if she’s found out anything yet. Just keep us out of trouble, okay?”

“Yes, sir,” Sheppard replied smartly, the plane banking in a slow northward turn. “Keeping us out of trouble, sir.”

Jack almost smiled, making his way slowly down the aisle towards Sam and McKay. His injured thigh protested every step, the strain of running across the tarmac now making itself known, his limp more pronounced. Sam looked up, concern showing in her eyes and he managed a reassuring smile for her before dropping down in the seat next to McKay.

“Does he know where it is?”

“Apparently I don’t know very much,” McKay sputtered. “Colonel Carter claims that my wife was a Goa’uld.”

“Ex-wife, McKay,” Jack reminded him.

“Well…yes.” McKay turned and glared at him. “Did you know?”

Jack inwardly sighed. “Not until after you were already married.”

“Well, someone could have told me.”

“Rodney,” Sam said, her voice surprisingly patient. “We’ve already been over this. If you knew she was a Goa’uld you wouldn’t have married her—”

“Hmm..well, possibly,” the man mumbled.

Sam frowned slightly but continued on. “And it would have defeated Landry’s efforts to—”

“Now see,” McKay interrupted again. “I have no problem believing he’s a Goa’uld. In fact it explains so much.”

Jack gave Sam a look and she seemed to get the message, laying her hand over one of McKay’s. “Rodney, we need you to focus. You gave Major Carter a wedding present.”

“I gave her lots of presents!”

“Yes, I’m sure you did,” she said soothingly. “But this one was different, this one was an alien spaceship.”

“Oh,” he said abruptly. “You mean the Al’Kash.”

“Yeah, McKay,” Jack rumbled. “The Al’Kash. Where is it?”

“Well,” McKay replied, pulling some type of phone or something off his belt. He punched several keys. “Let’s see…she kept it as part of the settlement….” He looked up and glared briefly at Sam. “She kept a lot after the settlement.”

“McKay,” Jack said firmly. “We’re not interested in the details of your divorce. We just need the location of the Al’Kash.”

“Yes, well…” he sputtered. “We did keep in contact and I let her continue to use several of my facilities.” He stared intently at the screen for several minutes, touching several more keys before he looked up, a triumphant smile on his face. “Alamogordo.”

“White Sands?” Jack asked, his mind already racing ahead.

“Isn’t that a testing ground?” Sam looked confused and Jack was reminded this wasn’t her world.

“Was a testing ground,” Jack answered. He looked at McKay then. “Another one of your acquisitions after Landry took office?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” McKay protested with an indignant look. “White Sands was acquired by McKay Industries, along with a string of other government properties that were at auction. All perfectly legal.” He tapped several more keys. “Paid cash, actually.”

“You’re sure it’s there?” Jack really wanted to believe it could be that simple, but his experiences since returning from stasis had merely reinforced his innate skepticism. 

“I saw her several months ago,” McKay said, his expression thoughtful. “She was all excited about one of her pet projects; she wanted to use the facilities at White Sands.” He shrugged. “They’d been closed down for several years so I didn’t see any reason to say no.”

Jack recognized the look on the other man’s face—it was one he knew well—McKay was still in love with his ex-wife and would have done anything she wanted. Jack looked at Sam, pushing himself out of his seat. “I’ll go tell Sheppard. You see if the good doctor knows anything else that might help us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack shifted his weight, leaning against the center console, trying to ease the dull ache that had persisted in his injured thigh. For not the first time in his life, he wished that the bridge of an Al’Kash had a few nice comfy seats. Zelenka and McKay sat in the two pilots seats, bickering like an old married couple while they checked out the ship’s systems. Of course, if Jack’s memory was correct, McKay pretty much bickered with anyone whom he saw as a rival when it came to science. 

Sam and Sheppard were several levels down, checking out the engine room. He would like to have gone with Sam, but his leg was feeling the stress of unaccustomed activity, so he’d stayed with the two scientists. Technically, someone needed to keep an eye on McKay. Jack wasn’t too worried though, as he suspected the man’s allegiance was pretty much on whichever side he could hope to make the most profit.

Once they’d had a destination, it hadn’t taken long for them to fly to south central New Mexico and the base hidden within the isolated desert and mountains of White Sands. Jack hadn’t been all that surprised when McKay had directed them to an airfield that wasn’t on any map he remembered of the White Sands base, if you could call the almost invisible runway carved into the unrelenting desert an airfield. A small cluster of dilapidated buildings huddled against the backdrop of the mountains, the one Quonset hut still standing abutted against a sheer rock face, hiding the entrance to the cavernous hanger carved into the rock that housed the Al’Kash.

Flipping open the cover on his watch, he saw it was just after midnight. He should have been tired, but he felt strangely invigorated. After working so hard for so long, with very little to show for their efforts, they were finally close enough to achieving their goal that he could almost taste it. Jack’s lips curved in a slight smile. And of course it had been Samantha Carter who had figured it out. His smile faded and he scrubbed his hand over his face tiredly. God, he was going to miss her. Because no matter how badly he wanted to ask her to stay, he wouldn’t ever put himself in a position where she could reject him again—no matter how gently. Jack heard footsteps behind him and quickly straightened up.

“How’s it look?” Even before she spoke he knew the answer, the smile on her face and the light in her blue eyes told him. Even the normally cynical Sheppard looked optimistic.

“Everything is in perfect condition,” Sam said, her voice vibrating with excitement. “I think she must’ve been close to being finished with whatever she was doing here.”

“I agree with Colonel Carter.” Zelenka swiveled around in the co-pilot’s chair. “All our simulations indicate that—”

“Yes, yes,” McKay interrupted. “ **My** analysis shows that the ship is in perfect working condition.”

“Radek?” It wasn’t that Jack didn’t trust McKay…which maybe he didn’t, he was taking Sam’s word as to his trustworthiness, so right now he trusted Radek more.

The Czech flashed a smug smile McKay’s direction. “McKay is right,” he agreed graciously.

“What about booby traps?” Jack asked. 

McKay blanched and Radek’s expression turned sober. “I have detected nothing out of the ordinary.”

Sam rested her hand lightly on his arm. “I don’t think she set any traps. She had no reason to, she was confident that no one knew of her true plan.”

“Just what was her true plan?” McKay asked.

“Why,” Sheppard drawled from Jack’s left, “to take over the world.”

McKay looked downright ill then, but it didn’t stop him from snapping back, “And just what would our plan be?”

Sam, Sheppard and Zelenka all looked at Jack and he smiled. “Why…to take it back.” He clapped his hands together. “So, we’re good to go?”

“Fighting fit and ready to go, sir,” Sam said, snapping off a smart salute. Jack grinned, welcoming the surge of adrenaline that raced through him at the prospect of getting into space again—and restore the order that had been derailed by Anubis’ victory. 

“All right then, we’ll pick up the rest of our crew—including Lorne and Fraiser.” Sheppard made his way to the front of the bridge, clapping McKay on the shoulder.” McKay, you’re free to go now.”

The scientist’s eyes got big. “But…aren’t I going with you?”

Sam intervened, her voice gentle. “Rodney, we don’t know what we’re going to face out there. You’ll be safer here.”

“Use the radio on your plane to call for help,” Sheppard told him. “It won’t take long for someone to come to your rescue.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, Landry’s agents are still out there looking for me.” McKay’s eyes narrowed. “Unless that was a lie?”

Sam turned to him, her face reflecting her concern for the scientist. “He’s right, Jack. They’ll still be hunting for him.”

Jack didn’t relish the thought of having the irritating man along for their mission, but Sam was right and he wouldn’t have the man’s capture by Landry and his goons on his conscious. “All right, McKay, you’re part of the team.” The man’s face brightened up considerably and before he could open his mouth, Jack pointed his finger at him. “Aahhh! But you follow orders, like everyone else? Is that understood?”

McKay deflated only slightly before perking up again. “Perfectly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hammond stood stiffly at attention until the last beam of light disappeared; Landry and his bodyguards transported to the Prometheus. Sighing audibly, he relaxed, and picking up the stack of papers on the table, left the briefing room. The hallway lighting was low, but George had walked these halls for years and besides, it wasn’t that far to the cubbyhole that was his office. He didn’t pass anyone on the short walk to his office—the space a far cry from the grand one he’d had before the president and his entourage had moved in. George didn’t let it bother him though, he’d always been a firm believer in the old adage ‘what goes around, comes around’; only allowing himself a small smile once he’d reached his office. Given what he’d just seen, it seemed like things might be coming ‘round.

With only the desktop lamp for illumination, George sat down in his chair, the old and worn leather creaking. The monitor on his desk slowly flickered into life with a swift tap on the keyboard and while it powered up, he took a moment to relive the scene he’d just witnessed. George knew better than anyone that it truly didn’t take much to provoke President Landry, but this was the first time he’d seen such a complete loss of control from the man. It had been a sobering sight and George almost felt sorry for Charles.

_“What do you mean you lost him?”_

_Landry, followed by Charles and his usual entourage of secret service agents, stormed into the briefing room. George looked up from the mission reports he’d been reading, enjoying the quiet late-night atmosphere of the base and the comforting solitude of the silent Stargate, just visible through the windows._

_“His plane disappeared off the radar, just east of the Springs.” Charles looked calm, but George wasn’t fooled, the man’s quick, nervous gestures gave him away._

_“Disappeared?” Landry turned on Charles, his voice dangerously low. “Are you telling me it crashed?”_

_“We don’t have that information yet, sir.”_

_“Or did that obnoxious know-it-all somehow manage to evade my finest?” Landry snarled._

_Landry’s eyes suddenly glowed and he held up his left hand, the dark center crystal of a hand device, specially modified without the cumbersome finger attachments, gleamed dully in his palm. George stood up, his paperwork forgotten. In the three years that Camulus had been at the SGC, he’d never been witness to such a blatant show of Goa’uld technology—or temper._

_Stark terror appeared in Charles’ eyes and he dropped to his knees. “My lord, we will find McKay,” he groveled. “Even now, your best agents are searching for him!”_

_“Charles,” Camulus’ voice reverberated deeply in the still room. “I am very disappointed with your recent failures. First Samantha Carter and now this.” Camulus lifted his arm higher, the crystal in the center of the device started to glow a brilliant orange, aimed directly at Charles’ forehead._

_As horrified as he was, George found he couldn’t look away. Charles’s face contorted violently under the effect of the hand device; the man’s agony seemed to go on forever, a small trickle of blood eventually running out of one nostril before Charles collapsed, unmoving, on the floor._

_Camulus was breathing heavily, a disgusted look on his face. “Take him away!” he ordered, kicking the man’s unconscious body. Two of the secret service agents stepped out of the shadows and quickly dragged Charles away._

_“Sperling?”_

_“My lord.” The senior agent present stepped forward, his face pale but his voice strong in spite of what he’d witnessed._

_“Find me Rodney McKay!”_

_“Yes, my lord,” Sperling replied smartly, leaving the room with what George would swear was a look of triumph and relief._

_George waited while Camulus pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his forehead, his eyes glowed briefly before he spoke, his voice now carrying the familiar drawl of Hank Landry. “George, I am surrounded by incompetence,” he commented matter-of-factly._

_“Yes, sir,” Hammond agreed quietly._

_“McKay must have been tipped off we were after him.” Landry had started to pace the area in front of the windows. George waited calmly and the other man eventually stopped, looking out over the Stargate. “If there is a spy in our midst, I want him or her found.” Landry turned around, his eyes hard and cold. “Is that understood?”_

_“Perfectly, sir.”_

_Landry smiled and crossed the room towards George, putting his arm around his shoulder. “I knew I could count on you, George.” Before he could even reply, Landry stepped away from him and nodded to the two secret service agents who remained, the men joining him. “Don’t let me down, George.”_

_“No, sir,” he replied automatically, when at a signal from one of the agents, the three men shimmered in the beam of the Prometheus’ transporter and disappeared from view._

Yes, George decided grimly, someone was tugging on the lion’s tail and he suspected that someone could only be the currently missing Colonel Carter. Still not quite sure what to make of the turn of events, except that the tide appeared to be turning, George checked his computer monitor, pulling up the CCTV feed to the holding cells. Janet Fraiser now sat on the floor in her cell, her back against the wall, her eyes closed and her posture that of someone in deep Kel-no-reem. Satisfied, George grabbed the next mission report from his file and started reading the latest colorful ramblings of Major Gann regarding the flora and fauna of P6R-221. 

“General Hammond, sir?” Staff Sergeant Esterhaus’ face appeared on the video feed to his monitor.

“What is it, Sergeant?”

“Sir, there’s an anomaly with the security camera in the holding cells.”

Setting the mission report aside, George tried pulling up the video feed from the holding rooms, only to get a screen full of static. His brow furrowed for a brief moment and then George made a decision that didn’t turn out to be that difficult after all. “Thank you, Esterhaus,” he said gently. “I appreciate your vigilance.”

Tracy Esterhaus looked confused, her voice full of concern when she spoke next. “Shall I send the SFs to check it out, sir?”

“No,” he replied in the same gentle voice. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll handle this personally.” The confusion remained on her face, but she nodded. “In fact, Sergeant,” he added. “I understand cook has lemon meringue pie leftover from dinner. Why don’t you take a break, have some pie.” Esterhaus had been at the SGC as long as he had and while George knew it was a risk, he trusted her loyalty—to him.

“Yes, sir,” she finally said. “Sounds like a good idea, sir.” She smiled and then the monitor went dark.

George opened the bottom desk drawer and took out the nine mil he kept there, sliding the clip into place. Standing, he put on his jacket and slipped the gun into one of the pockets. The hallway was still quiet and he headed towards the control room, following a hunch that whatever was going to happen would involve the Stargate or the transport rings in the gate room. The briefing room was dark and quiet, the sound of his shoes ringing on the metal staircase that took him down to the control room unnaturally loud. There was only one technician on duty.

“Sir.” 

George smiled when Walter hastily shoved a magazine into a drawer. “Sergeant.”

“You’re here late, sir.”

Hammond nodded idly, his eyes slowly surveying the various monitors, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “Just catching up on some paperwork.” 

Neither man mentioned the earlier scene that Walter had undoubtedly overheard. Once the lead control room technician, Walter had been demoted to the night shift soon after Landry’s arrival. George didn’t know if the younger man knew the whole truth about Landry, but he was fairly confident that the sergeant’s loyalties still lay with him. Walter had been at the SGC—and with him—as long as Esterhaus, and George trusted him implicitly. However, he didn’t want Walter caught up in whatever fall-out that might occur because of his actions. “Why don’t you take a break, Sergeant?”

Walter got the same look of temporary confusion on his face that Esterhaus had when he’d given her the same order. “Thank you, sir,” he stammered, “but Goetowski will stop by later to relieve me.”

“No, I insist. Go take a break.”

Comprehension eventually dawned on Walter’s face and though he still looked confused, he slipped out his ear piece and stood. “Thank you, sir.”

George waited until he’d disappeared up the stairs and then turned to the main computer console, entering his command access code and blocking access to the Stargate, not that it would make any difference if their plan was to use the ring transporter, but it would look good in his report later—if he was around to write one. And then he slowly descended the stairs down to the gate room. 

Swiping his access card, the door slid open and George stepped inside as the opposite door opened soundlessly, revealing Doctor Janet Fraiser and Major Evan Lorne. George’s lips twitched in a slight smile; he didn’t surprise him all that much that Lorne was aiding Fraiser.

“General.” Lorne stopped, his eyes flashing to the empty control room and then back to Hammond, a zat suddenly in his hand.

“George!” Fraiser exclaimed, skidding to a halt next to Lorne. She didn’t look quite as surprised as Lorne did at his unexpected presence, which somehow comforted him.

“That won’t be necessary, Major,” Hammond told the younger man, gesturing towards the zat.

“If you don’t mind, sir,” Lorne said, “I’ll just keep it handy.”

“George,” Fraiser said again, ignoring the hand Lorne placed on her arm and stepping closer. “You’ve got to let us go.”

“I didn’t come here to stop you, doctor.”

“Then what are you doing, sir?” Lorne asked, clearly torn between wanting to continue with whatever he had planned but also curious.

“I’m here to make sure you make it out safely.”

“George,” Fraiser spoke, but it was Selmak’s deeper voice. “We are in your debt, old friend.”

“No,” George corrected her, taking hold of one of her hands with both of his. He searched her eyes, seeing the faint shadows of her former hosts, Jacob Carter among them. “We will all be in your debt if you’re able to put an end to the tyranny we’ve allowed to happen here.”

“Sir,” Lorne said, his voice urgent. “Come with us.”

Hammond shook his head. “No, contrary to recent appearances, I’m needed here.” When it looked like Lorne was going to protest again, George interceded. “Go. It won’t be long before someone besides me knows Fraiser is missing. I’ll take care of things here.” Fraiser smiled and he released her hand when she stepped back next to Lorne, who had positioned himself in the center of the rings. 

Lorne touched his ear piece. “Lorne here. We’re ready.” 

The transport rings materialized, descending into the gate room and enveloping Lorne and Fraiser. George watched as they disappeared from sight and murmured, “God speed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lorne shifted his weapon, grinning slightly as he watched Sheppard give a nervous looking McKay the quick and dirty rundown on using an automatic weapon. McKay held the weapon like a first time father holding his new baby—as if he expected it to go off any minute. Lorne didn’t think he’d ever seen a less likely group of intergalactic freedom fighters in his entire life; he slowly assessed his fellow team members, his practiced eye resting thoughtfully on each person.

Cynthia Fabares sat against the nearest bulkhead, her fingers moving the cleaning cloth in an almost hypnotic rhythm against the barrel of her M40 while she cleaned her weapon; an action Lorne knew was more ritual than routine. He didn’t know her personally, their paths had never crossed before now, but he had read and heard whispered stories of her expertise. A young man, hardly more than a fresh-faced boy, sat next to her, his long fingers moving expertly as he assembled his now clean weapon. Lorne knew him by sight—Dawes, ostensibly O’Neill’s aide, but Lorne was beginning to realize he was going to have to revise his assessment of the ‘boy’. 

Cynthia suddenly looked up and saw him watching them and she winked, flashing him a sly smile. Lorne felt himself flush slightly under the woman’s appraising look and quickly glanced away, his gaze falling on a point halfway between Dawes and the other member of the resistance they’d ‘beamed up’ from the compound—Torres. Lorne remembered Torres from the old days, before Landry had taken over, and knew the deceptively large man concealed an uncommon grace and agility behind his almost clumsy appearance, along with the mastery of several forms of martial arts and hand-to-hand combat. 

Not too far away, Zelenka, an elderly MP-5 by his side, crouched near the control console, his laptop attached by cables to the exposed inner workings of the ship. Every so often he’d mumble in Czech, earning a worried look from McKay—who clearly couldn’t decide what warranted his attention more, the weapon Sheppard was showing him or the code scrolling across Zelenka’s laptop. Lorne grinned when Sheppard rumbled, “McKay”, immediately getting the scientist’s undivided attention. He caught Fraiser’s quick smile from the corner of his eye from where she sat in the command chair closest to Zelenka and gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement before his eyes drifted over to the last two members of their merry band of insurgents.

Colonel Carter sat in the other command chair—and O’Neill was never far from her side. Her eyes were intent on the display in front of her; O’Neill looked deceptively calm, leaning casually against the front console in a position that Lorne knew favored his bad leg. He seemed utterly focused on the woman next to him, but Lorne also knew that if asked, he could describe, in great detail, what every member of his team was doing. 

Lorne heard Carter murmur something and he caught a quick glimpse of the brilliant smile she flashed O’Neill, along with the almost indescribable blend of sorrow and love that filled his face before it disappeared, replaced with a look with which Lorne was more familiar—intense determination and a refusal to give up. He’d heard rumors, anyone who had been at the SGC for any length of time had heard about O’Neill and Carter. And seeing them together now, her blonde head once more bent over the display racing across the screen and his unwavering confidence in her, Lorne realized it had all been true, whether in this reality or hers. 

“Ha! I have you now!” Zelenka leaped to his feet, a wild-eyed grin splitting his face and several blue crystals clutched in one hand. There was a look of triumph on his face when he spoke. “Selmak, Colonel Carter,” he said, his solemn tone warring with the sparkle of glee in his eyes, “I give you Camulus’ Hatak.” He pressed a key on the laptop and gestured towards the front windows.

“I’ll be damned,” Lorne muttered. The stars in front of them started to shimmer and disappear, gradually replaced with the gleaming edifice of a Goa’uld mothership. 

“How did you do that?” McKay demanded, shoving his weapon at Sheppard, who looked equally stunned at the appearance of the ship.

Zelenka shrugged. “It was not that difficult.” The rest of the team gathered around him, all of them gazing out the front window. 

“So what now, boss?” Sheppard asked. 

Lorne felt that familiar stir of anticipation in his gut when O’Neill smiled. “Now we get ourselves a Goa’uld.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well,” O’Neill said, lowering his weapon, “that was disappointing.” He caught the smile Sam tried to suppress while they surveyed the scene of their stunning—and surprisingly swift—victory. Fraiser, McKay and Zelenka were already clustered around the command center on the pel’tac, talking excitedly between themselves, well at least McKay and Zelenka were, Fraiser and/or Selmak’s hands were already moving rapidly over the controls. Sheppard, Lorne and the rest of his team were taking care of the two very startled and chagrined crew members of the Hatak.

“Distefano,” Lorne drawled, talking to one of the men who lay prone on the floor of the pel’tac, none to gently fastening his hands behind his back with a tie-band. “I always wondered about that special assignment of yours.” He drew the tie-band a bit tighter and the hapless Distefano let out a garbled curse. “I guess now we know.”

“Anyone else on board, doc?” Jack caught the flash of another smile from Sam when the three ‘doctors’ at the console turned and look at him.

“The ships internal sensors indicate no other life-signs,” Selmak answered, leaving McKay looking like a fish out of water and Zelenka nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

“All right then,” he rubbed his hands together. “When will we have a fix on the Prometheus?” Jack directed that particular question to the room at large but his eyes were on Sam. 

“Depends on how fast we can find her cloaking frequency,” Sam answered.

“I’m uploading all of her specifications right now.” Zelenka was crouched next to the console, the yellowish glow highlighting his face as he removed a red and then a green crystal and replaced them with two blue ones he took out of his satchel. 

McKay looked momentarily impressed. “Where did you get those?” he asked, peering over Zelenka’s shoulder.

“From the Al’Kash; it seems Major Carter anticipated needing a removable storage device and downloaded everything on these crystals.” The Czech scientist frowned, removing one more crystal before standing up and grinning. “She must have had a similar plan.” 

“Well then,” McKay replied, his voice confident when he looked at Jack. “I will have the position of the Prometheus momentarily.”

Jack raised an eyebrow while Zelenka and Fraiser, along with Sam, looked skeptical. 

McKay elbowed Zelenka aside and crowded next to Fraiser, talking all the while. “McKay Industries developed the interface for the Asgard technology used on the Prometheus. You need to calibrate the sensors for—”

Jack didn’t need to hear anymore, so he tuned the scientists out, leaving them to their calibrating. There were a few more things that needed to be taken care of anyway. He looked at Sheppard. “Secure the rest of the ship,” he said. “Take Lorne and Fabares.” Dawes looked disappointed until Jack told the young man, “You are in charge of protecting those three,” he pointed to the trio gathered at the pel’tac.

“Yes, sir!” Dawes said enthusiastically, moving closer to the busy scientists.

“Torres, get that garbage,” he said, indicating their two captives, both securely trussed and on the floor, “out of here. We want to run a tidy ship.” He caught Sam’s half smile at the comment and almost smiled himself. Torres nodded, and easily grabbing both men by their collars, dragged their loudly protesting prisoners out of the room. “Ah, much better,” Jack commented. 

Limping more than he liked, Jack made his way to the dais where the command chair rested in solitary majesty. Sam discreetly followed him, in case he did something stupid like stumble on the chairs, he figured. Sighing inaudibly, he lowered himself into the chair—which was just as hard as he remembered from the last time he’d been on a Goa’uld Hatak. There was less talking from the ship’s control console and Jack absently glanced at his watch. He hadn’t seen any reason to bring it up earlier, but the longer it took them to find the Prometheus the less likely they’d be able to take the ship by surprise. Of course, if Lorne and Fraiser were correct and Hammond was sympathetic to their side, the old general might be able to buy them the time they needed.

Sam knelt down on one knee, resting a hand lightly on his thigh. “They’ll figure it out.”

“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” he asked.

She chuckled softly, glancing over her shoulder before replying. “Too many cooks spoil the stew.” She squeezed his knee lightly before sitting down on the dais with her back against the corner of his chair. “Selmak knows this ship better than any of us, we have the specs of the Prometheus courtesy of Zelenka and Major Carter, and if this McKay is as good as he thinks he is, we should be home for dinner.”

“Home,” Jack murmured. He more felt than heard her sigh, as if she’d just realized what she’d said, and she shifted closer, leaning against his legs. He wanted to comfort her, lie to her and tell her she’d really be home, in her reality, but he didn’t. As confident as he was in their plan, it was still risky and even if they were successful, it would still be up to Sam to find her way home. He’d do everything in his power to help her, he’d keep his promise to her even though it would mean losing her all over again. Fuck, he thought tiredly, he was so screwed….

“I have to go.” 

She didn’t look at him and he reached out a hand to stroke her hair, stopping himself before he actually touched her, his hand falling back to his lap. Jack knew what she meant by her cryptic comment. It seemed petty and definitely surreal to be jealous of himself, but he was; he had to think of this time with her as a dream and when he woke, she’d be gone and he’d go on. “I know,” he murmured huskily, before falling silent. 

“What did I tell you?” McKay exclaimed, his voice full of triumph. The stars visible outside the view screen of the Hatak shimmered and after several tense moments, the Prometheus appeared in the field of stars. Sam stood up and moved closer to the pel’tac and Jack followed her. They knew her location, now all they had to do was board her, subdue her crew and send Camulus to whatever special hell there was for Goa’uld. 

“Impressive.” Sheppard, along with Lorne and Fabares, who had just returned, crowded around everyone else at the pel’tac. Sheppard turned and looked at him. “Just give the word, sir.”

Jack took a moment to study his team, the gleam of anticipation in their eyes and on their faces a testament to their commitment and desire to restore their world to its proper order. He was proud of them and he only wished he could share their enthusiasm for the future. His eyes lingered on Sam, she had the same look of hope on her face. Whether it was hope for their success or hope for her return to her home, he couldn’t tell and ultimately it didn’t matter. Whatever his hopes were didn’t matter; they had a job to do.

“Just like we planned, people,” Jack finally said with a slight smile. And because he was their leader, he knew they expected him to say something thoughtful and profound, he added, “For the red, white and blue.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hank Landry gazed moodily at the crescent of Earth that was visible from the window in his command center onboard the Prometheus. The blues, greens and wispy swirls of white clouds were a familiar sight in which he normally took great pleasure. But not today. His dominion over Earth, which should have been sealed by his victory over the Ori, was being challenged. He knew about the resistance, there were always those who thought they could overthrow him. And while he would never admit it, perhaps it had been a mistake to not take the resistance on Earth more seriously. 

Idly swirling the single malt scotch in the cut crystal glass he held in his hand, Landry contemplated his next move. And the answer was always the same. He knew without a doubt that Colonel Samantha Carter was the lynch pin to his ultimate victory and until he had her, he would remain vulnerable. With the knowledge she possessed, not only would he be able to conquer this universe, he’d have the ability to travel to other universes as well. His power would be limitless. But he had to find her first.

 _He’d gone too easy on Fraiser,_ he thought sullenly, letting his host’s natural reluctance at torturing a woman influence him. He wasn’t sure there was anyone at the SGC he could trust to interrogate her properly, even Makepeace, who seemed to have a certain flair for torture, was too much of a brute for the more delicate touch needed in torturing a woman. Besides, it seemed Fraiser still had some influence at the SGC. He’d seen it in Hammond’s eyes and various other personnel. If he was going to get anything useful out of Fraiser, he was going to have to obtain it himself—and away from the SGC. 

Tossing back the scotch, Landry swiveled in his chair and pressed the intercom button on his desk. “Sperling? Have Fraiser brought to the Prometheus.” Sitting back, he waited for the man’s acknowledgement, but the comm remained silent. “Sperling!” he ground out, his temper rising, repeatedly jabbing at the intercom. “Get the hell in here!”

Landry looked up when the door to his office slid smoothly open. “Well, it’s about damn time,” he snarled. Expecting Sperling, Landry frowned in consternation when Major Lorne appeared in the doorway. His temper rising, Landry pushed his chair back and stood. “Major, what the hell are you doing here?” 

A second, scruffier looking man Camulus vaguely recognized suddenly appeared next to Lorne. “Something that should have been done a long time ago,” the dark-haired stranger drawled, leveling a zat at him.

Camulus roared with rage, hurriedly reached for the gun in his shoulder harness, but he was too slow, the energy discharge from the zat enveloping him. He fell to the deck; his last conscious thought spent trying to vainly sneer at his unexpectedly hopeful host.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He doesn’t look so tough now,” Sheppard commented.

President Hank Landry, aka Camulus, lay motionless on a bed in the Prometheus’ infirmary, safely secured in place with four-point leathers. John had seen to the placement of restraints himself while Zelenka and Carter worked on establishing a temporary force shield around the infirmary’s isolation room. He’d make sure there was no way in hell that Landry could escape this time. Taking over the Prometheus had been almost as easy as boarding the Hatak and John suspected it was because Camulus’ minions had become sloppy and over-confident, never expecting a small, well-armed strike-force to take over the supposedly impenetrable bastion that was the Prometheus.

O’Neill didn’t respond to his remark and John glanced at him briefly. Instead of the look of triumph he would have expected, O’Neill looked like he still he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders and John guessed maybe the man did. Taking over the Prometheus was just the first step of many towards restoring the rightful order on Earth. 

“Do not let his appearance fool you,” Selmak commented, studying the various monitors attached to Landry and jotting down a few notes on a clipboard before she turned and look at them, her expression somber. “Even now, as heavily sedated as he is, the symbiote still fights the affects of the drug.”

“How long can you keep him this way, doc?” O’Neill asked. 

Selmak didn’t answer right away and John figured symbiote and host were having a conversation they didn’t want to share with either him or O’Neill, which even after all the years he’d been working with Fraiser, kind of creeped him out. It didn’t seem to bother O’Neill though and John generally just chalked it up to the older man’s more extensive experience with the whole snake-head thing.

Fraiser finally answered, “I don’t want to keep him like this any longer than twenty-four hours, but hopefully by then Sam will have the force shield in place.”

“What about this plan she has to remove the symbiote using the transporter technology?” John personally didn’t care one way or the other what happened to Landry, just as long as Camulus died and if that meant Landry’s death, well, he wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. But Carter—and O’Neill—both seemed determined to ‘save the host’.

“Without access to the Tok’ra technology used to separate a symbiote from its host, it would appear to be the only available option.”

“You can’t operate and take it out?”

Fraiser and O’Neill share a look John couldn’t quite interpret before she shook her head. “No…we know from past experience that surgical separation is unsuccessful.” She looked back at her patient. “For now we’ll keep him heavily sedated.”

O’Neill nodded and turned to leave. “Keep us appraised, Doctor.”

John fell into step with O’Neill and they made their way thought the corridors of the Prometheus to the bridge. Carter, McKay and Zelenka all appeared to be working feverishly at various workstations.

“How’s that force shield coming?”

Carter crossed over to where Zelenka was busy behind what John knew was the main control console of the ship. “We’re ready to go online now.”

“Do it.”

All of them except McKay crowded around Zelenka’s monitor. A camera was evidently focused on Landry’s bed because they could see him, along with Fraiser, a syringe in one hand injecting something into his IV tubing.

“Doctor Fraiser?” Zelenka spoke into the comm unit. She immediately looked up, searching for the camera. “We’re ready to activate the force shield. You should probably step outside of the room.”

Fraiser nodded and removed the syringe, moving out of camera range.

“Why?” John asked.

Zelenka looked uncomfortable for a moment before he murmured, “Just in case….”

“Ah.” John was quite familiar with ‘just in case’. Without further comment, Zelenka pressed several buttons and John thought he could see a faint shimmer, but then it disappeared and nothing looked any different. “That’s it?” he questioned.

Zelenka and Carter were both bent over some readout on another monitor when she looked up, a broad smile on her face. “It’s working!”

Zelenka changed the view on the monitor and they could see Fraiser standing just outside the closed door to the isolation room. “The force shield is active, Doctor.”

She looked into the camera. “How do I get in to take care of my patient?”

Carter answered. “We’ve rigged an on/off switch into the access panel with the door controls. When you press the button to unlock the door, the force shield will automatically disengage. The force shield will automatically re-activate when you close the door.”

“So just remember to close the door behind you, doc,” John added.

Fraiser smiled faintly and nodded before disappearing from view; Zelenka turned the camera back to Landry, who lay still and pale, strapped to the bed. 

“Good job,” O’Neill said, looking away from Landry he turned to Carter. “How’s it coming with the transporter thingy?”

“McKay is working on it.”

“As fast as he can,” McKay responded somewhat irritably from the console where he worked. “Something as delicate as selectively transporting a living being out of another living being without harming either of them is asking a lot of this technology. I mean,” he added, pausing briefly, “the Asgard do good work and everything, but we don’t want to end up removing part of Landry’s brain along with the symbiote.”

“How would you know?” John muttered.

There was a long pause and John merely shrugged, McKay finally breaking the silence that had fallen over the room at his comment. “Never the less, it would still be bad form. So, if you’ll excuse me?” McKay bent over his computer once more.

“So, what about—”

“Sir?”

John looked around for the source of the interruption and saw Dawes looking over at them from the far corner of the bridge, a vast array of buttons and blinking lights on the console in front of him.

“What is it, Dawes?” Jack asked.

“It’s General Hammond, sir. He wishes to report to President Landry that Doctor Fraiser has escaped from the SGC.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Time to re-take the SGC?”

“I doubt we’ll encounter much resistance.” Lorne, followed by Fabares, entered the bridge.

“Can we still use the beaming technology while you work on it?” O’Neill directed his question to McKay.

“Yes,” the scientist replied, without looking up from his console.

“All right. We know Hammond is sympathetic to our cause, but we still need to go in prepared.” O’Neill spoke to Lorne first. “The crew and Landry’s staff are secured?”

Lorne nodded. “Yes, sir. They’re all in the brig; Torres is keeping guard. The sooner we get them to a more secure area though, the better. The brig on the Prometheus wasn’t designed to hold quite so many people.”

“Right. Lorne, we’ll have McKay beam you, Cynthia and Dawes into the control room. You can secure the Stargate and the rest of the SGC from there.”

“I better go with them,” Carter added.

O’Neill frowned, Carter got a stubborn look on her face and John wondered briefly which one of them would win this particular battle of wills. 

“Sorry, Major.” Carter looked over at Lorne. “I know the computer systems better than you or anyone else on that base.” She looked back at O’Neill. “You need me there more. Besides,” she added, “my work here is done.”

The undercurrents swirling in the room were thick and heavy. Carter was right, she’d held up her end of the deal. Regaining control of the SGC would be nothing compared to everything else they’d been through. 

O’Neill and Carter continued to stare at each other and the tension between them was palpable, until O’Neill finally nodded. “You’re right.” He turned to Dawes. “Contact Roggers,” he instructed, naming one of the senior officers in their group. “Tell him to get everyone into position outside Cheyenne Mountain and to wait for our signal.” Dawes nodded and turned back to his blinking console, pushing buttons and talking into his comm.

“Sheppard, you and I will beam directly into the briefing room.” O’Neill looked at Zelenka. “Can you pinpoint the presence of life signs with any of this stuff?” he gestured around the bridge.

“I ah….”

“Third set of controls to your left,” McKay said. “Should say sensors.”

“Ah, got it.” Zelenka started turning dials. “I think I have it.”

John peered over the scientist’s shoulder, Lorne and Fabares looking on as well. The display looked like some kind of weird video game with reddish blips moving around a green-tinted grid. 

“If I’m reading this correctly, there is one life sign in the control room.” Zelenka pushed another button and the display changed. “There appears to be one person in the briefing room and one in here.” He pointed to an area adjacent to the briefing room.

“Isn’t that Landry’s office?” Carter asked.

“Yeah,” Lorne said. “Could be Hammond contacted us from there.”

“Right. O’Neill clapped his hands together and looked over towards Dawes. “Our back up?”

“On their way, sir.”

John grinned when Jack spoke next. “I seem to be repeating myself but…let’s do it—again, people.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Walter had been at the SGC for a long time. He’d been through foothold incidents, mind-altering alien viruses, several Wildfire and various other sundry lock-down situations involving the near total destruction of the base, not to mention the whole black hole incident and was still around to tell the tale. Heck, he’d even survived being demoted to the night shift after somehow living through their worst nightmare. But when it came time to write his memoirs, this particular night would outdo all the others for total weirdness.

Ever since their disastrous defeat at the hands of Anubis, Vice-President Landry’s transfer into power and the subsequent move of the White House to the SGC, Walter had gotten used to strange comings and goings. And he’d always had his suspicions about Landry, but after seeing what happened to those who openly opposed the President, he’d kept his mouth shut and his nose clean. Until tonight…when General George Hammond, a man whom he admired and respected above all others, asked him to look the other way. 

So, he’d gone to have coffee, joining Esterhaus in having a piece of pie, both of them amazingly un-curious as to the reasons behind their unexpected midnight break. After what Walter hoped was a reasonable amount of time, he’d cautiously returned to the control room, slightly concerned to find it empty with the blast windows closed. Frowning, he took his seat and opened them, mostly relieved to find the gate room empty. Surprised at the twinge of disappointment he felt, Walter’s practiced eye scanned the readouts in front of him, one particular blinking button catching his eye. 

Crap. Walter’s hands flew over his keyboard, but nothing he did changed the readout on his monitor. The base had been placed into lockdown. When he recognized the old command code that had been used his initial panic subsided somewhat, which still left him unsure of what to do. He wavered, his hand resting on the phone, protocol dictated that he notify Major Vance, the night duty officer. But after everything that had already gone on that night…. When the phone rang under his hand, he jumped, quickly snatching it up.

_“Sergeant?”_

“General Hammond, sir,” he stammered, relief filling him when he recognized the voice on the other end. “I was just about to call you, sir. The base is in lockdown.”

_“I know, son. It’s all right. Will you ask Sergeant Esterhaus to come to the briefing room?”_

“Right away, sir.” Confused, but willing to follow orders now that someone higher up the food chain than he was had been informed about the lockdown, Walter gladly called the night security guard. 

And that’s when things got really weird. 

Much to his chagrin, it took Walter longer than he liked to recognize what was happening. Once Esterhaus arrived—he wasn’t above listening from the base of the circular stairs that led to the briefing room, he was only human after all—his phone rang about every fifteen minutes with a request from Hammond that he call someone else to the briefing room. One by one, from Major Vance through Colonel Makepeace, Hammond called for every ranking officer signed in to the base overnight.

Sometimes there were shouts and curses that filtered down the stairwell, other times only ominous silence. Whatever their reactions though, his phone continued to ring. By early morning, when his phone rang yet again, Walter didn’t think there could be anyone else left on base for Hammond to summon. 

_“Sergeant?”_

“Who next, sir?” Walter asked, realizing after the words were out of his mouth how presumptuous he sounded. Fortunately, Hammond chuckled.

_“No one else, Sergeant. Just let me know when Major Lorne arrives.”_

“But sir, the base is in lockdown….” Walter’s voice trailed off, the receiver dropping out of his hand and hitting the floor with a dull thud when the energy beam filled the control room and four figures materialized in front of him. While he only recognized two of the four, they all held weapons pointed directly at him.

Raising his hands, he couldn’t help but smile, addressing his next words to Lorne. “General Hammond is expecting you, Major.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack stood in front of the bank of windows, gazing down at the Stargate and ignoring the excited conversations going on behind him. Hammond had been waiting for them; somehow not surprised to see him resurrected from the dead and surrendered the SGC with a smile. Anticipating some sort of action, Hammond had evidently already rounded up Landry’s supporters and had them confined, the remaining were personnel thrilled with Camulus’ capture and eager to help. 

But even over all the hubbub around him, Jack still sensed her presence before she appeared at his side. His eyes closed briefly on a wave of pain and desire when she took hold of his hand and leaned against his side, but he couldn’t move away.

“Whatcha’ thinking?” she asked softly.

“How lucky I am that Hammond knows how to deal with this mess.”

She chuckled quickly. “He always was more of a politician than you ever were.”

Jack pulled away slightly and slanted her a speaking look. She seemed to realize her faux pas and gently squeezed his hand. “At least that’s the way it is in my reality.”

“No,” he admitted, “you’re right.”

“That’s some plan he’s come up with,” she continued. “Getting Julia Donovan and the rest of the press here to hear the news first hand that President Landry had a brain hemorrhage and is critically ill.”

“I think the real genius was to put Hammond in charge of things until we see what happens with Landry.” Waiting until they knew whether the ‘un-blending’ would be a success bought them needed time to get an interim government in place, at least until a real election could be held. Sam had suggested that they bring in a man called Richard Woolsey to help during the transition. And while Jack didn’t recognize the man’s name, Hammond knew him and even Fraiser had given her and Selmak’s approval. 

Sam cocked her head and looked at him. “You don’t want to be President?”

“I want to go fishing.”

She smothered a smile, leaning into this chest and he wrapped an arm around her. “What do you say we blow this pop stand?” he murmured into her ear. He ignored the almost imperceptible tensing of her muscles, but then she relaxed and pulled away, linking her fingers with his, the vaguely sad look in her eyes at odds with her tender smile.

“Anything you want.”

In the end, they only went up three floors to the VIP room on level twenty-five. As much as Jack wanted to take her somewhere else, it was still a critical time in the transfer of power and while he was only peripherally involved in the many deals currently being brokered, he needed to be available. To that end, he’d reluctantly told Sheppard where they’d be, bracing for the other man’s censure and instead seeing only pity. Jack couldn’t decide which was worse.

And then he didn’t really care, because as soon as the door was closed and locked behind them, she was in his arms. Her mouth was hungry and demanding and Jack kept his eyes firmly closed during the first frantic moments of their kiss because he didn’t want to see pity in her eyes either. But he discovered the only thing worse than pity was not seeing her at all. If this was indeed the last time he held Samantha Carter in his arms…made love to her…he needed to see every breathtaking moment.

With no other goal in mind than to drown himself in her presence, Jack half walked, half staggered over to the large bed in the room. When his legs bumped up against the mattress, he briefly lost his balance, their forward momentum toppling them both down on the soft mattress. Her laugh was a breathless chuckle when she rose up over him, immediately tugging her black T-shirt off over her head, her bra quickly following it to the floor. The light from the lamp on the bedside table cast an intimate glow around them and Jack could almost imagine they were some place else—maybe another time or place where he wasn’t a substitute for a man she already possessed in another reality.

Dragged from his dark thoughts by the vision in front of him, Jack wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything quite as erotic as a half-naked Sam removing her combat boots, her breasts swaying slightly while she moved, her skin pale in the soft shadows. He drank in her beauty, steadying her with trembling hands against her smooth skin when she shimmied out of her BDU pants and plain white panties. Jack started to sit up, but she placed her hand in the middle of his chest and gently pushed him back down on the bed. 

“Not yet,” she murmured huskily, her hand gliding provocatively down his chest. His breath caught when she lightly brushed against his erection and she laughed softly, trailing her hands on down his legs, her touch burning through the rough cloth of his trousers. It was an exquisite sort of torture, watching her as she knelt by his feet, slowly and methodically undoing the laces on his boots, tugging each one off and dropping then on the floor, his socks were next and her cool hands were on his feet, stroking lightly, his toes curling when she ran her nails delicately along the sensitive soles of his feet. She glanced up at him then, the half smile that played along her lips told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him. His eyes drifted shut while she worked her hands back up his legs, nimble fingers unfastening his belt. 

It was unsettling for a moment, to think she knew him so well—or that he was so similar to that other Jack. He didn’t want her to forget him when she left, for her memories of him to intertwine and become indistinguishable with her other memories. But perhaps it was inevitable; already his memories of his Sam were being replaced with this woman’s smile, her laugh and her touch.

“Jack.” His eyes flew open, her face was right in front of him, her blue eyes full of concern. “You were a million miles away.” He was naked…somehow, missing those moments when he’d been caught up in trying to keep his thoughts straight. 

“Where were you?” she whispered, caressing his cheek.

“With her,” he admitted. “With you…I don’t know anymore.”

She didn’t look shocked or surprised by his confession. If anything she looked accepting, and Jack wondered what had happened in her reality that had given her such wisdom. Bending low, her breasts rubbed against his chest, her lips brushing against his. “I don’t think it matters anymore,” she murmured. “Right now, this is our reality and it’s the only one that matters.

Sam’s vaguely familiar words swept away whatever doubts and misgiving that had taken hold of him. If she could ignore the illusion that was their shared reality, then so could he. No longer willing to remain passive, Jack clamped his arms around her and rolled, settling heavily between her legs. She didn’t look too upset by the change in position, in fact she looked downright pleased, her blues eyes twinkling and her lips curving in a lazy smile.

Jack searched her expression, trying to find pity in her eyes, but all he could see was love—and a raw desire that demanded an answering response from him. Lowering his head, Jack teased her with fleeting kisses, slowly rubbing his body against hers in an all-encompassing caress. Her breath hitched when he rotated his hips against hers and the soft sound of her pleasure was all it took to break down his last barriers.

With patience and exacting precision, Jack made love to Sam. He lavished kisses and caresses on every inch of her soft skin until she was trembling and pleading for him with each shuddering breath.

It wasn’t until he was the sole focus of her existence that he looked deep into her passion drenched eyes and slid deeply into her body. Bracing himself over her with one arm, he trailed his other hand down from her shoulder until he found her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and then he began to move. Slow, deep, steady thrusts that soon had his injured thigh aching, but he didn’t stop.

Sam gripped his hand harder, the fingers of her other hand gripping his shoulder, her nails digging his muscles, her legs tightening around him. Jack knew she was close and he shifted the angle of his thrusts, expecting at any minute to see her eyes drift shut, but they didn’t. She let him into her soul and when she cried out his name in ecstasy, he shattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jack woke, surrounded by rumpled bed sheets, she was gone. He didn’t go looking for her, he dressed and walked through the halls of the SGC, wondering if the empty feeling inside him was because she would be leaving soon or because his work was done. When he reached Level Twenty-eight, Sheppard appeared out of the control room and joined him, falling silently in step beside him. 

Jack could hear the excited voices from the briefing room clear out in the hall. “They been at it all night?”

“Pretty much,” Sheppard drawled. “That Woolsey guy just got here.”

Curious, Jack looked into the crowded room, immediately spotting the bespectacled, bald newcomer. He stepped back into the hallway. “He looks like a geek.”

Sheppard shrugged. “At least he’s not a Goa’uld.”

Jack couldn’t argue with that. “Any news from Fraiser?” They’d decided to keep Landry confined to the Prometheus until such time as it was determined whether he could be separated from Camulus.

“Well, McKay says he won’t be ready to run any live trials for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Live trials?’

“He’s asked for mice.”

“Ah.” Jack didn’t really want to know anymore. “Well….’ He wasn’t accustomed to the rather aimless feeling he’d felt overtaking him since he’d woken—alone.

“She’s in her old lab.”

Jack didn’t pretend to not know who Sheppard meant. 

“Says she’s trying to build a bridge between parallel universes. And she’s asked for McKay to come help her as soon as he can.”

Again, Jack wasn’t sure he needed to hear anymore. “Give her anything she wants, including McKay,” was all he said and walked away from Sheppard, the plans being made in the briefing room and a lab on level nineteen.

“Where are you going?” Sheppard called after him.

Jack didn’t stop. “Fishing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam wasn’t sure what kind of early warning network Jack had at the SGC, she suspected Teal’c, but in his usual enigmatic way, he would never confirm nor deny her suspicions. Whatever the case, when she hadn’t heard from the General after her return to her reality, she shouldn’t have been surprised to see the rental car parked in front of her house. It had seemed like an eternity, instead of not quite twenty-four hours, before she’d finally been debriefed and cleared by the powers that be to go home, with a pending trip to DC once her final report was written.

The relief she felt at finally being ‘home’ was tempered somewhat by her impending reunion with the man who meant more than anything in this reality—or any other. From the moment she’d materialized within the SGC she had known she would have to face this moment and while she didn’t think she needed to prepare an answer to any questions she might receive, it didn’t explain the butterflies currently taking flight in her belly. 

In spite of whatever misgivings she imagined, she was eager to see him…more than that, she needed to see him. By the time she’d parked and had her hand on the front door knob, it opened beneath her hand and Jack stood in front of her. He didn’t say anything, his eyes sweeping over her as if to confirm she was all in one piece, and then she was in his arms. She almost cried, the inarticulate sob buried against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, any secret doubts she might have harbored disappearing.

It felt right. He felt so right. 

“Welcome home.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d truly been afraid in his life. The first terrifying moments after he’d heard the gunshot coming from his son’s room would always top the list, but coming in at a close second was the phone call he’d gotten from Hank Landry almost a month ago telling him Sam had disappeared and they couldn’t find her. He hadn’t been too worried at first, but as the days wore on with no sign of her, he couldn’t help but imagine the worst. And he had to admit he truly hadn’t believed she had returned, until this moment, when he finally held her in his arms.

He’d had a brief glimpse of blue eyes in a pale face before she’d launched herself into his arms. She seemed thinner, almost fragile, as if her bones would break if he held her any tighter. Her arms were looped around his neck, her chest moved unevenly against his; her vulnerability revealed in the ragged breaths she couldn’t hide. Her eyes had been partially hidden by the early evening shadows and he was filled with an urgency to look into her eyes, to satisfy himself that this was really her, even though he knew she’d passed all the tests the medical team and everyone else at the SGC could toss at her to verify her identity—even more rigorous since the alternate reality invasion of a year or so ago. 

Loosening his hold on her, he tugged gently on her arms until she released the stranglehold she had on his neck. She seemed to calm slightly when he ran his hands down her arms in a light caress, briefly squeezing her hands before he released them. She took a shuddering breath and then went completely still when he cradled her face between his hands.

Her cheeks were flushed, her skin still cool from the outdoors. Her hair felt silky brushing against his fingers and when he breathed deeply, he caught the reassuring scent of her shampoo and the light, almost imperceptible fragrance she always wore. She smelled the same and the tension in his gut ratcheted down a notch. Beneath his sensitive fingers, he could feel the soft skin he remembered and he couldn’t see any visible signs she’d been dealt with harshly in that other universe. Of course, he also knew some wounds were invisible and he’d learn about those later. Jack lightly brushed his thumb over her lips, her breath warm as she softly sighed.

He finally looked in her eyes. They were clear, the blue of her iris vivid against the white. Jack already knew tox and drug screens had come back negative. And while she looked rested, there were still faint circles visible under her eyes, a lingering reminder that she had worked hard to return home. If you didn’t look past the superficial, you’d be tempted to say she was fine. But Jack had known her too long and too well to accept what was only apparent on the surface.

Sam’s hands crept up to his wrists, lightly encircling them while he continued to study her. She didn’t look away, giving him the time he needed. He recognized happiness and relief in them…at being home…at seeing him, he hoped. But beneath the joy he could see the faintest edge of pain and sorrow. He’d read the bare bones of her report, trying to see what she hadn’t written about the man who could have been him, and whom he knew without a doubt, was responsible for the lingering shadows in her eyes.

Jack didn’t question the sudden rush of possessiveness that surged through him. He’d never ask her what happened beyond what was in her official report, but he would reassure himself she knew in which reality she belonged. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, Jack slowly lowered his head, her lids eventually fluttering shut, shielding her from the intensity of his gaze, when his mouth finally claimed hers. 

Banking down his own desperate desire, Jack took her mouth with slow, deep kisses, drinking in her soft sob of capitulation. She sagged against him and he wrapped his arms around her, absorbing every moment of having her back in his arms. Before he could get anymore carried away and forget that her foyer was hardly the place to show her how much he’d missed her, Jack reluctantly released her lips. “Bedroom,” he whispered hoarsely when she tried to hold his head in place, pressing kisses wherever she could reach.

His whispered word had the desired effect; Sam suddenly twisted out of his arms, her hands gliding down his arms in an imitation of his earlier caress, one hand closely firmly around his right wrist, pulling him after her down the hall that led to her bedroom. The bedside lamp was already on, he’d been in there earlier, his duffel lying on the bed, the shoes he’d removed as soon as he’d arrived kicked off under a chair, his leather jacket tossed carelessly on it. 

When Sam released his hand to toss his duffel bag on the floor, Jack quickly tugged down the bed spread and sheets, no longer trying to curb his desire. Eager hands and fingers collided with each other in their frantic haste to remove each other’s clothes until they were both naked and he tumbled her down onto the bed, landing lightly on top of her. He groaned at the exquisite feel of her body against his. It seemed like it had been forever since he’d made love to her and Jack was overwhelmed by the feel of her soft breasts against his chest, the way her strong legs cradled him between her thighs and the fleeting temptation of her inner warmth as he settled his hips heavily against her.

Even though every instinct he possessed urged him to take her immediately, Jack somehow mustered the self-control to make love to her the way he’d dreamed of…the way she deserved. He kissed and caressed every inch of her, dwelling in those spots he knew so well. Jack delighted in the slight shivers when he trailed moist kisses down her neck, her soft sighs of pleasure when his mouth reached her breasts, the way she trembled against him with each sweeping caress and practiced touch.

Sam’s back arched and her nails dug into his shoulders when he slipped his fingers through her sensitive flesh. “Jack, please,” she whispered, her voice a ragged sigh. 

Jack hadn’t meant to make her beg; he merely wanted her to need him as much as he needed her. “Sam,” he rumbled, rising over her and kissing her deeply. “Look at me.”

Her eyes slowly opened and Jack gazed down into their blue depths, finding pain replaced with desire and sorrow banished with a love so deep that he felt humbled in its presence. “I love you,” he groaned, slipping into her waiting body with infinite care. He was now the supplicant, coming to her with his heart and soul in hand, seeking her beneficence.

She sighed his name, her hands gliding along his ribs, coming to rest on his hips as she shifted beneath him, her delicate muscles tugging at him and luring him deeper. He started moving, his muscles trembling under the strain of the slow and steady rhythm he set; her body moved easily with his, re-establishing familiar patterns. His breathing was heavy and labored, Sam gasped softly with each inward thrust, her breath hitching in a low cry when he abruptly shifted, his fingers stroking her in synchrony with his movements. 

Time held still for him while he watched ecstasy engulf her, until he too was swept into the maelstrom with her, his name a sweet cry on her lips. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t until much later, when they lay replete and satisfied in each others arms that he asked the question he knew she expected. “So there was another ‘me’ in that reality?”

Sam raised her head off his chest and looked at him and Jack wondered for the briefest of moments who she saw—him or the Jack O’Neill from the other reality. Not that it really mattered, he decided pragmatically. This was their reality and nothing else mattered. When she didn’t answer right away, Jack raised an eyebrow. Sam’s lips curved in a slow smile and her eyes took on that tenderly amused expression he was so used to seeing from her. 

“There was another Jack O’Neill.” She leaned down and brushed a tender kiss across his lips. “But there’s only one you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Epilog**

Spring slipped into summer, summer into fall; with winter chasing them all until it was summer again; the cycle of seasons unbroken. Jack kept in touch; after all he was just in Northern Minnesota, not on another planet. He watched the news as the new government formed, took its first baby steps and began to mend the damage done by the Goa’uld tyranny. Heck, he even voted in the first national election since the dark day when Anubis had rained fire down from the sky. 

And it seemed he had friends who wouldn’t let him fade away into anonymity, the road to his cabin a veritable super highway for visitors. Hammond had reinstated Sheppard’s commission and the Lieutenant Colonel was now back in his rightful place in the Air Force and at the SGC. Fraiser had declined to return to the SGC, or the Tok’ra, instead continuing her work with the homeless and less fortunate in Colorado Springs, with Cassie returned home and working at her side. Zelenka, much to McKay’s dismay, turned down a lucrative job offer from McKay Industries, instead taking a position at the SGC and establishing himself as one of their lead scientists. Jack was gratified that every one of his people had been accepted back into the newly formed and growing society. 

“Jack!” 

He didn’t look up from the telescope eyepiece when he heard her voice, his fingers moving expertly over the dials until he had a clear view of Vega then slowly adjusting the telescope until M56 came into view. “What?” he finally asked the figure dancing just inside his peripheral vision.

“It’s time for the fireworks,” Cassie said. Her fingers closed around his hand, tugging slightly. “You have to celebrate this Fourth of July!”

Jack looked up from the telescope and smiled at the young woman standing next to him. On the other side of his cabin, along the lakeshore, he could hear the laughing and talking of his friends, who had descended en masse upon his cabin to celebrate the Fourth. There was a sharp report and they both looked up, a bright golden starburst illuminating the sky.

“Come on!” Cassie pleaded, tugging at his hand again. “John’s starting without us!”

“All right, all right,” he laughed, limping after her. Another report sounded, this time a brilliant green starburst exploded into hundreds of tiny golden showers over their heads. Cassie laughed, releasing his hand and running on ahead of him. Jack followed her, finally accepting the unaccustomed feeling of contentment that seemed to fill him these days. A year ago, Jack thought he would never feel anything but pain, but then she had arrived and turned his world upside down—for the second time. Clichés aside, time did heal most all wounds, even those of the heart. 

When he reached the party on the shores of the lake, Cassie and Radek were handing out sparklers to everyone. Jack obediently took the lit sparkler thrust into his hand and moved it in a lazy circle. It was the Fourth of July; Jack looked up to the sky when he saw Sheppard light a particularly impressive looking aerial shell. The night exploded in a spectacular array of gold and silver showers and he wondered idly if there was a similar celebration happening in a universe far, far away. 

**THE END**


End file.
